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Weekly Contest #105
Even though her heart was still beating, Amy Dawson had died long ago. No one could tell when or where it happened, but those who were part of her death dwelled on the delusion that she was ever alive, to begin with. Yet her death itself was an illusion, for as I sat right in front of her, I couldn’t tell if I was speaking to her soul or her body. She gave no sign of my presence, except that she would rather not have me there. For a brief moment of silence, I considered listening to her heartbeat, to see if it were loitering in a world as fa...
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