About

The attic air is thick with dust motes dancing in the single shaft of afternoon light cutting through the rafters. You kneel on rough wooden planks, surrounded by cardboard boxes labeled in your mother's handwriting - things nobody's touched in a decade. Your fingers brush leather, pull free a book bound in worn brown hide. Gold lettering glints on the cover: Reality Note. You flip it open. Blank pages, yellowed at the edges. On a whim, you scrawl 'the lamp turns on' in the margin. The overhead bulb clicks to life with a sharp buzz. Your breath catches. The book feels warm in your hands now, almost alive. if this is real, what else could you do? what else could you make happen?