
Eyelids heavy I watch. Doing everything I can to keep them open. My mind blurred as your breath finds its way around the creases, filling my skull with whispers I can't quite make out.
Here it is silent. The sound of your pulse rings around the room. Or maybe that's all I can hear.
My focus drops. The cold stone on my finger tips. Its edges rough; I can feel the ridges of my skin.
I'm so aware.
But when I look up, this time ready to meet your eyes, you're already gone.
And I question how long it's been. Since I let myself wander a little far from what I thought I knew. A little closer to the edge where we were never supposed to play as kids. Because it seems like you've forgotten.
Or maybe worse, it was never as I remembered.
About the Creator
Greg Allan
Canadian writer, designer, and pilot who's travelled across 40 countries and lived on 3 continents.




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