Transformation is often imagined as something poetic, something endowed with purpose. But what of the changes that bring only ruin? What about the slow unraveling, the spaces left behind, and the silence that settles like dust? For a recent humanities course, I was assigned to write a passage from Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis—not through Gregor’s eyes, but from the perspective of someone left in the wake of his transformation. I chose to give a voice to his sister, Grete, who has watched a beloved brother slip into something unrecognizable in form and in spirit. This passage explores grief as a…