Imagine, if you will, the scores of people going about their lives everyday – the mindless routines, odd little habits, humdrum goings-on – oblivious to a great many things, one of which is this:
Every single trace, erased. The once known, now unknown.
How does it feel to grow old without you?
How does it feel to be young without me?
I like to think that I have covered my tracks well.