𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 | 𝘤. 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴

twenty three. while we're here

The relief afterwards was somewhat soothing, subtly. Silence. Cool, hard marble against my touch, clashing with my heated skin from the previous episode. My body had fallen downhill of its reaction, however, my emotions remained all the same. With the heavy breaths, ones in which craved the alluring idea of water, yet I remained in feeling too weak in moving any limb in order to reach the nearby faucet, glaring at me with a reality that had only made this all the more troubling to internally deal with.

For a while, I did nothing but sit. My legs pulled into my chest, leaning into the wall. This sick feeling, it had been going on for days. Finally, I'd reached my limit. At first, I didn't understand why. I thought it was maybe only from the sudden change in diets - being able to eat real meals, contrary to our time on the road. However, I was starting to believe it was nothing of the sort. I could have been making myself feel this way, without realizing, or even meaning to. It was only a natural internal reaction, one I didn't know how to stop. Deep breaths would not fix this kind of thing. I may continue feeling whatever this was, for a while.

Nothing was the same, after all. Nothing.

Once enough strength had inched it's way back, I brought myself to the sink, turning the nozzle without hesitation. Cold rushing water creaked through the pipes, pouring into my palms at last. I splashed the liquid on my face, then cupped my hands once again, bringing the water to my dried lips. My throat calmed after this action, as well as the subtle stabilization forming in my empty stomach.

Although not quite 'better', my limbs seized to shake enough, in that I was fully able to get myself out of the bathroom, down through the hall, and back at the living space we all shared.

When laying down on the pile of blankets I'd been sleeping on the last few nights, I found slumber hard to come by. My eyes flickered to the ceiling, watching all the unexplained optical dots move through the air. Something about those little shapes were always comforting. If you tried hard enough to look for them, they were always there. Floating in the sky - dancing at your feet. I thought that they made up everything, like how atoms did. But, atoms weren't visible. So, at the end of the day, they were still left a mystery.

Possibly half an hour of this had passed. It was after my eyes became bored with the same scenery, when I finally gave up on sleep. The drive of tiredness was absent - leading me to sit myself back up, before ultimately deciding that my head was far too loud for any of this. I ended up at the front door, departing silently into the night.

Outside was chilly. It was good, though. The air felt nice for a change opposed to the stuffy hot house. Even then, a tank top just barely passing my midriff, and drawstring sleeping shorts may have been a bit of a stretch for outside wear. Nevertheless, it had no part in stopping me from my walk.

With my arms folded across my chest, I walked down the empty roads. It was odd to see these streets so empty, but, I liked it better. There was no noise. Nothing to listen to besides my own breathing, and the soft swooshes of air. Few lights here and there, between the dark trees, and houses. Even the the moon was at peace tonight. It had been the most extraordinary part of it all. The way it reflected upon the lake, near the wooden gazebo. It was joined by a heap of stars; far more than a moon could ever wish to have.

Stars; they meant something. The alignments were supposed to create constellations, and those had meanings. Ones I couldn't recall, but they were still there, unless, they had fallen from the sky. Perhaps, some really had gone - dulling, or dying. Then, what would happen to those patterns of significance?

The universe was made of a weak fabric. That's why it was so easy to split at its seams, in the first place. It could be that this was only the first action, while the thread slowly unraveled. The stars could be next. Or, the moon. First, though, it would be us. All of us.