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Her throat tight, Mara paused the video and leaned back. The floor beneath her felt colder. She realized she had been replaying the footage with the sound turned up, and between the gentle hum of the bulb and the clink of distant dishes there was another layer of sound—words, counting. A rhythm. A sequence of numbers whispered like a lullaby.

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"Why leave it online? Why the videos?"

The next morning she found a scrap of paper in the notebook that hadn't been there before, as if the book itself had answered the video. The numbers were repeated, with an addition: "Look where light settles." Her throat tight, Mara paused the video and leaned back

She thought of the seed that had split on her sill, of its tiny seam like a door. "And the numbers?" A rhythm