My Disembodied Companion

With every last strand of my thinking grapled and strung by unseen forces, I see the woman as she hovers, her scarred toes hovering inches from the ground. Her eyes are like shards of broken, beaming glass and her expression is empty, a hole in space. By her side, her arms dangle loosely, and she hisses when she breathes. She is telling me something, and I listen. I am curious. I hear her instructions, and her knotted hair moves in jagged ways when she tilts her head. The chance for me to conform is now, and I only have to follow through to be a part of what she is. And when I tell her I understand, she won’t go away.

I lie down to sleep, and she remains in the corner of the room, staring at me.

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