-deeper- Emily Willis - Barrier -15.07.2021- ✧

A minimalist apartment at twilight. Rain streaks down a large window. EMILY WILLIS (late 20s, sharp but tired eyes) sits on the floor, back against a bare wall. Across from her, an old wooden chair holds a single object: a sealed letter with her birth name on it.

She picks up the letter. Her hand steadies. -Deeper- Emily Willis - Barrier -15.07.2021-

The only light is the blue-gray glow of a muted television playing an old home movie. A younger Emily, maybe ten, waves at the camera, laughing. A minimalist apartment at twilight

They tell you the barrier is to keep things out. Monsters. Memories. The hands that touched you in the dark. Across from her, an old wooden chair holds

The deepest barrier wasn’t the door. Or the name. Or the distance.

She reaches toward the line but stops an inch away. Her hand trembles.

July 15th. I chose this day. Five years ago, I walked out of that house. Three years ago, I said the name "Emily" for the first time in a mirror and didn't flinch.