(no subject)
Human words wash and lap the door to the outside parts. So many of them, humans never stop talking, they must be descended from birds. No creature of the ocean would pour so many syllables into the wind, waste so much. Masuoka was wrong.
There is not much time left for F. Her eyes stay half-open, watching the sunlight crawl across the floor. Her fingernails have mostly healed, the scabs flaked off. She waits patiently for death to come to her, the concrete floor to turn into dark dark water and swallow her.
She is not afraid. Fear is not for F, like so many other things. She is patient, and the time is very near.
The center cannot hold, Masuoka cried one night.
Something must give.
Whether it will be F, she doesn't know.
There is not much time left for F. Her eyes stay half-open, watching the sunlight crawl across the floor. Her fingernails have mostly healed, the scabs flaked off. She waits patiently for death to come to her, the concrete floor to turn into dark dark water and swallow her.
She is not afraid. Fear is not for F, like so many other things. She is patient, and the time is very near.
The center cannot hold, Masuoka cried one night.
Something must give.
Whether it will be F, she doesn't know.