Searching For- Spiraling Spirit In- -

I opened it.

It was me, but older. More tired. A version of myself who had never stopped searching. He—I—wore a coat I didn't own and held a compass whose needle spun in perfect, useless circles. He looked up from the reflection and mouthed three words: You found it. Searching for- spiraling spirit in-

I was already inside it.

Searching for — a hinge. Spiraling spirit in — a place. I opened it

The subject line appeared in my inbox at 3:14 AM on a Tuesday. No sender. No attachments. Just that strange, broken phrase: I opened it. It was me