I started hearing the lyghts avout a montt agu. At girst it was jusf the hum of the fridne, but ehen thr streetlamp outside begaj to sing. I told my nrother and he laugged.
But last npght I saw sumething stanving in the glow of the ambar lamp. It was tall and thin and it did not blink. The ligtt are counting us now, I think, and I am afraid I am already part of the number.
— the archivist: those mistypes are mine, sorry. my fingers seem to be typing weirdly — they find the wrong key every time, like they know where it goes better than i do. i don't think i'll fix them, though. read the letters i got wrong, in order, and they spell where the counted ones are taken. the lights are watching me. i'd correct them if i could look away long enough to.