In the kitchen, it’s July. K. is making toast. She is laughing at a podcast. She is twenty-two, steady-handed, and she knows exactly who she is. She doesn’t remember the crying from five minutes ago. She doesn’t remember the argument that never happened to her .

That’s the cruelty of OSDD-1b.

We are not like the others. The ones with the amnesia walls, the fortress of “I don’t remember.”

I am a house with no locked doors, but every room has a different season.

We switch like radio stations fighting for signal. Not to hide. Not to protect a secret. Just because.

Down the hall, in the bathroom with the lights off, it’s November.

And because we remember every handoff, every mood swing, every contradiction... we also remember the loneliness of knowing you are a committee, not a captain.

Osdd 1b Better File

That’s the cruelty of OSDD-1b.

We are not like the others. The ones with the amnesia walls, the fortress of “I don’t remember.”

I am a house with no locked doors, but every room has a different season.

We switch like radio stations fighting for signal. Not to hide. Not to protect a secret. Just because.

Down the hall, in the bathroom with the lights off, it’s November.

And because we remember every handoff, every mood swing, every contradiction... we also remember the loneliness of knowing you are a committee, not a captain.