An Unglamorous Night of Summoning

Airnote  ·  Lysa  ·  Jun 19, 2026

A frayed blanket, a thin mat spread on the floor.
A traveler with a foreign backpack for a pillow,
sinking into half-sleep.

I thought being summoned would be more — dramatic,
came the voice, addressed to the ceiling,
slowly dissolving into the smell of rust and old tools.
No thunder. No cracking floor.
Just a blanket, and the smell of things not yet put away.

Too quiet a night for any story worth telling.
But the fact that the one who called you
could spread a blanket and say sleep here for now —
that closeness felt, to me,
like an extravagant kind of real.

The small candle flame
lit the unglamorous night of summoning
without a word.