Alison Frank

The Devoted

You can’t stop thinking about her. She is your everything. She is the reason you get up in the morning, the strength that pushes you through the grueling days, the last whisper on your lips before sleep comes at night. Intense feelings flood your system as you think of her, over and over, endlessly. You can’t help yourself. It’s as compulsive as the tongue that runs itself over the gaping hole where a tooth used to be. You yourself are down a couple of teeth these days, god, the front ones too. Thankfully she doesn’t care a thing about that, nor about the fact that you’ve lost considerable weight since the Beforetimes. You chuckle lightly to yourself. You’re not the man you used to be, that’s for sure... No, not exactly the picture of virility and good health. You can’t help but smile and shake your head, reminiscing. As you lose yourself in your thoughts of the Beforetimes and of her, the pleasure and pain and nostalgia all intertwining, your hands dig. You’re glad to have a task to do, something to occupy your days. The manual labor feels good. It reminds you that you’re alive. Your life has a purpose. She gives you purpose. The gratitude sticks in your throat.