Napdream from earlier:

In the childhood basement. You were dressed like a stage hand and staying in our furnace room. Nobody but me was glad that you were there. You brought with you strange gusts, tremors from forbidden places. The nieces came downstairs as I was telling you not to leave, to stay longer. We fell silent. The nieces sat on the couch and stared at you. They were waiting for you to do something. They had a terrible look. When they went upstairs I continued murmuring to you, and you murmured back. When the mother came down, you approached her, filled with pleading. She stared through you, inched away from you, said a word that turned the room into a baby's throat being squeezed by its mother. I went to you and cradled your wet eyes.