Breath is just a clock... ticking.
It is blazing hot; but it matters not at all to me. Someone has taken to blissfully painting layers upon layers of brilliant blue up above, and I thought the sky sparkled from the tears that the people down below wept. They cried; oh yes they did, and how – out of the pure gladness of their own hearts, the soulful nakedness of others’ dreams, the gentle giddiness of everyone’s love.
But then I see her strolling towards me unerringly, like a ship at full sail – you can see the huge vessel coming to land but not feel the wind that brings it. The trees whisper words of caution; circles are drawn in the sand. I draw myself up to face her, but a deep pang of sympathy hit me: while convoluted facts and complicated figures can be computed in her brain with absolute accuracy, she is no more capable of independent thought, lacking emotional depth and possibly having lost all traces of humanity. But then again, she is not really all that human to begin with.
And that is when she drives me down to my knees. I took in a breath, readying myself for the inevitable. I catch a fleeting glimpse of cold recognition in her fiery eyes, but I know that I can be a constant no longer. Do you know how it feels like to lose a part of yourself? The tangy fresh smells of wet green grass after a summer’s rain, the musky odours of the yellowed, well-turned pages of your favourite book, the cheeky all-telling grin of the cute guy who sat in front of you in class a full decade ago…
I am losing it. I am close to losing it all.
I know her name now: she is Change, and she has taken me.