aww, sad. Most people are finding that when they write about nothing it ends up melancholy..

Ow, what just stabbed my heart? Oh, it was your story. Poetically delivered at that. What the grandmother had in mind and spirit are vacant now. You’re suggesting that nothing can blend with something, the grandmother and nothing are coming together in certain ways. She is at that point in her life where the line blurs— she and nothing are co-existing. If we can come from nothing then we can certainly return to nothing, right? If there is ‘nothing’ on both sides of our lives, before we’re born and after we pass, does that mean all we’ll ever know is this life and the things in it? If so then we’ll always have lived in a way, and live permanently in that capsule of time, if all we know is life, perhaps. Maybe I’m ranting, chasing at an illusion, but anyway, I love ficlys that make me ponder. Thanks :)

Very tragic. A little disjointed, but for the most part that works with the overall feel and sense of the piece.