There are things that don’t begin where you think they do.

Not with the first page. Not with the first word.

Sometimes they start earlier. In pieces that don’t make sense yet.

A door left open longer than it should be.

Not wide enough to notice at first. Just enough that something could have passed through.

A name written down, then crossed out. Not erased. Just…rejected.

As if the story changed its mind.

Some things are still unfinished.

Some things are waiting to be found.