Time slips through the window while I remain inside a house slowly being devoured by the teeth of mice. Every day I hope they’ll fall into the trap. Every day, another piece of the house disappears instead. My suitcase is packed. The window is open. The road exists. Yet I’m no longer sure whether I’m staying to build something or simply because I’ve grown accustomed to waiting. And worst of all, I can’t tell whether the hand I’ve extended is baiting the trap… or feeding the mice. 2026; the year when time froze, but the house kept being eaten from within.