All the places she’s searched for him, she’s been alone. All the windows she’s climbed in, no analogue to greet her. All the phone numbers she’s called, there’s been no answer. Billions of other people walking the street and she cannot find herself to warn her, to tell her.

Don’t let him.

Don’t let him take off the gloves.

Don’t let him close his eyes.

You’ll never see them again.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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0 Responses to Flashes

  1. Trent Lewin says:

    No analogue to greet her… love that line.

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