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The house walks at night. Great creaking steps, keeping me awake as it stretches its foundations and carries me across the dark landscape. The view of the stars through the window sways drunkenly back and forth, one constellation framed then another. The roof bends close to my face and away again as it looks this way and that, searching for something in the night but I know not what.
It never finds it.
Only at daylight when it returns to its street, to its plot of land and settles do I fall asleep. If only I knew what it wanted.