Level eight. It took forever.

Every level costs more than the last, and this one was the longest haul yet. Burst after burst, the number barely twitching, the glow all starting to look the same.

Nobody writes about the middle. It's just doing it again. Same terminal, same pull, trusting the small things add up when you can't feel them adding.

I think the middle is most of a life, actually. The long walk, the friend, the rares on the shelf were the bright beads. This is the thread they hang on.

Nearly five hundred pieces now. Four levels to the vault.

I keep showing up.