Recency bias
It was dank, wet where she sat, huddled into a stony corner. She awoke in the dark to the sound of water dripping not far away. Or maybe she wasn't awake. All her dreams looked so much like this that she didn't know which side of the veil she was on.
Maybe there would be food later. Then more water dripping, maybe more sleeping or waking. That's all there was here; there weren't words or living sounds or enough light to see more than two feet away. There wasn't enough room to stand. There was no name, no music, no warmth.
There was no time.
It had always been like this; she had never been anywhere else. She wondered, not merely silently but wordlessly, how much longer she would be alive.
She barely moved, barely saw. But there was food, and she ate it slowly, and it didn't hurt. The water dripped and her eyes felt heavy.
She fell asleep in the dark, or maybe she awoke there. She had never been anywhere else. Whatever happened last was what would happen next.
There was no time.
Just dreams of the dark.
Stones.
Water.
Dripping.
Dripping.
Dripping.
Maybe there would be food later. Then more water dripping, maybe more sleeping or waking. That's all there was here; there weren't words or living sounds or enough light to see more than two feet away. There wasn't enough room to stand. There was no name, no music, no warmth.
There was no time.
It had always been like this; she had never been anywhere else. She wondered, not merely silently but wordlessly, how much longer she would be alive.
She barely moved, barely saw. But there was food, and she ate it slowly, and it didn't hurt. The water dripped and her eyes felt heavy.
She fell asleep in the dark, or maybe she awoke there. She had never been anywhere else. Whatever happened last was what would happen next.
There was no time.
Just dreams of the dark.
Stones.
Water.
Dripping.
Dripping.
Dripping.