Micah Kaats

1.

You walk into a room you've never seen before. You notice:

the light a single object that doesn't fit how people are standing whatever you can see through the window

2.

You're on a long flight at night. You look out the window. You think:

about the people sleeping below about how the plane stays up about who'd come to your funeral about the meaning of life

3.

A psychic stops you on the street and offers to tell you one true thing about yourself, but you choose the category. You choose:

something about how I love something about how I work something about how I'll die something I do every day without noticing

4.

There's a version of you that exists only when no one is watching. That version is:

more or less the same person a little weirder, a little more particular significantly different I'd rather not know

5.

You're given an empty notebook. A month later it contains:

nothing a single very long entry a system that gets increasingly elaborate drawings and doodles

6.

The kind of attention you most want from a friend:

being seen accurately being remembered specifically being challenged, gently being left alone in a comfortable way

7.

You're alone in a strange city with one free afternoon. You:

walk until you're lost give yourself a quest sit somewhere and watch find the tastiest treat you can

8.

Pick a room you'd want to spend the day in:

a wood-panelled library in winter, one lamp, snow outside a sun-drenched kitchen in late summer, golden hour a glass-walled garden room in early spring, sage and soft gold, rain a neon-lit Tokyo bar at midnight, wet streets outside

9.

When something surprising happens, it's probably because:

I underestimated something I overestimated something I wasn't paying attention I was paying attention to the wrong thing

10.

There is a bar where all the versions of you that almost happened like to hang out. What’s it smell like?