Some said it was a spell. Others, the last word of a forgotten language. A programmer swore it was an error code from a server that never existed.
But when I said it aloud — fuh-FAY-oh — the streetlight outside flickered. The cat turned its head too fast. And for one second, the rain fell upward. Some said it was a spell
Maybe some things don’t need meaning. They just need to be spoken once, into the right dark, at the right wrong time. into the right dark
It arrived without context — scrawled on a sticky note, left in an old library book, whispered in a dream. Ffaio. No vowels to soften it. Just the hard double-f, the quiet a, the i, the o. left in an old library book