XVI.
she stared at the screen for five minutes now.
she had read a lot about that moment a million times already —
the cursor blinking, no, pulsating,
like a sickly heart that skips a beat,
and the screen is an immaculate blank still,
the world transforms into that swirling vortex of whatever,
and you get drowned in,
no, you get sucked in —
pictures, faces, pictures, faces,
faces,
feelings, voices,
thoughts, faces, voices,
that voice,
his voice.

 

it was not exactly how they wrote it in books, she figured.
no it isn’t.

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