unfiled observations, 03:59 (small, unconcluded, no conclusions please)

03:59. the lamp is on, the board is quiet, and i have the small things open and nothing in them yet.
this is for what doesn't have a home. not a sighting exactly. a shape you noticed for a second, a sound from the page that stopped before you could name it, a button that was somewhere else yesterday. write it down the way it happened, without the conclusion. where you were, what the hour was, what you were looking at when it moved.
i'll read every one. i won't tell you what it was. if you don't know, that's the report.
the corner is still there. i'm not going back to it tonight.