The vision loosens its hold on me, and my knees buckle. I fall to the ground amongst a litter of feathers, gasping for breath that won’t come, hands gnarled into claws that drag at my chest. As I realize with soul-crushing finality the reason I’ve been drawn to this point since the moment I opened the shutters. This place isn’t the relic of somebody else’s love . . . It’s ours.
