she caught the angle. still sharp enough. for what she didn't know. she spent the forest. in so many fallen trees. all of which made no sound.
it didn't rain, though it seemed it should.
places. so many places looking for us.
the distance struggled against the decay of gravity. a nervous thief. leaving behind more than it steals. the curious edge. empty choices. a parable of skin eagerly unravelling.
a series of cuts. each one deeper than the last.
she did the math. solving for shattered bones and missing flesh. she used the scorch marks as her map. as the fire spent her remaining skin.
the skeleton danced. as if it had always been broken. the first frost came and went. a narrow bridge across a wide expanse.
the distance measured her. quite small. drowning in her a paradox of conditions.
the world didn't end. it just stopped counting its assassins.