My house is full of strange fixtures.

The first one appeared in my living room, when I was sitting on the couch and watching TV. I was watching football, when in the corner of my left eye I could see something move into frame, where it stopped and didn’t move any further. I looked away from the TV to see what it was. I saw a sculpture: a man in a suit, wearing a tie and a tophat. He was holding a briefcase in his right hand, walking mid stride, his left foot still in the air, his right foot still behind him. Confused and surprised by the sudden apparition, I got up and approached it to investigate further.

The fixture was unmoving; dead and inanimate. Its limbs were rigid, unwavering to my touch. I could leave no impression on it. Whatever material it was made of, neither wax nor marble, did not dirty anywhere I touched. It was immeasurably lifelike, capturing in it a glimpse and moment of time of some man’s life, with me the invisible spectator lost in the noise. I tried moving it, but it would not budge; it was fixed in space and in time, and I was helpless to alter it. I tried for some time with the sculpture, but it would not move, and eventually I accepted that it would remain there, and I went back to the couch and continued watching TV. The sculpture persisted and vexed me; my team scored a goal I had missed.

With time, more and more of these sculptures, these fixtures, have appeared, and I’m as helpless to each of them as I am the first. They appear from nowhere, unprovoked to the best of my understanding, and when I try change or move them, nothing works, and I’m left to only watch as they encompass my life, and I glare in a pitiful confusion.

One night, a new fixture appeared in my room. I was laying and facing into the wall.

My eyes were closed, my body was under the covers. One moment, I could feel a fixture above me that wasn’t there before. I could sense its gravity around me, and the shift in the atmosphere as it appeared. The air seemed cold through the covers, which were nearly touching its lifeless body. I stayed motionless: this fixture was not like the others. I could feel the fixture’s warm breath on my cheek. I dared not move. I stayed static the whole night, the whole day, my eyes closed and my breath held. At some point, during the night or the day, a sound reached my ears, something moving in the house; but still I remained, and still I stayed.

The fixture’s breathing lay heavy on me.

It held its place.

Just like all the other fixtures.

Just like me.

6.IX.21