The rain has been falling for four days

The rain has been falling for four days.

I went downstairs to check for water

and instead found the smell—

not bad exactly, but wrong.

Concrete and cardboard, something

that has started to rot

but hasn't finished. The boxes

in the corner have gone soft.

It's the smell of patience,

of time moving in a direction

you can't follow. The low ceiling

makes it heavier. I stood there

breathing it, knowing I would

have to come back,

that this is what's underneath

everything—waiting,

the slow work of decay,

the basement that knows

more about us than we do.