What never happened must have happened because there is a memory of it somewhere in my brain, tucked away. Looking up at the starry night sky, my breath vaporizing, mixing with the crisp air, I have never felt so insignificant, so exposed for a meteor to come crashing down on me. Is it true what they say? That we are not alone? In the misty morning, between the dream world and the material world I heard someone. It was the priest and the straying nun. “You must pray for forgiveness!” he said and she wept. I felt the pressure of her body against my feet beneath the covers I knew I must stay hidden. Imagine dying and being gone forever. Lost. You might never reach the end of the universe in forever. Time is ticking and it’s never slowing down. It’s actually going faster, increasing speed by tiny grains of sand that it’s hard to notice if you aren’t paying attention. Sometimes, I feel like two hands and one head is not enough. Hold on or to let go? It’s no use, trying to change the mind of some people. Their minds are beyond reshaping, like clay that’s been left out to dry. It takes eight minutes for the sunlight to reach the Earth. Eight minutes before we find out there is no more sun. Are we alone? Do we pray? Eight infinite minutes or sped up minutes? Will someone hold my hand?


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