Flower Field

Wrap your fingers around whatever pathetic version of reality you know, because the light you hold in your hand is just a small torch in a dark room with no walls.

The mind likes to believe we’re on a stable platform, but I can feel the lobes of my brain detaching and moving away from each other, no longer connecting confidence to assurance. I don’t know how the present relates to any event before this; my dreams have as much validity as anything else.

That’s where I saw her, lying on a patch of grass in a flower field, wearing a patterned dress. She was relaxed; she is never relaxed. Her eyes were closed and she was shifting slowly on the ground, as if someone was making love to her, but there was no lover. She let out a sigh that sounded like my name and my vision shifted to a nearby road.

Somewhere else. The world shook and ended. My heart paused, and then started up again after three quick beats. She’s there, holing my hand. We decide to go with everyone else, to find where the world will begin.

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