It’s back.  I can feel it.  It’s standing on the other side of the door.  The door I locked and barred and barricaded long ago.  It’s pressing on that door, looking for the weak point, the spot that will give and let it come crashing in.  And while it searches, it’s snaking its tendrils through the cracks and crevasses.  It’s wrapping those tendrils tight, round and round, and pulling me down. I can feel it in the weariness that goes all the way…