CORRIDOR, UNLIT The long passage between them has no figures in it. Not because no one walked it — because the walk doesn't count as an event. On one end: the amber-lit small room where a man has arranged himself around his work the way a tooth arranges itself around a nerve. On the other: a clinical white light, a chair that tilts back, a held-open mouth. The mother waits outside the door like punctuation that hasn't been used yet. Everything is connected. The connection is empty. The emptiness is structural.