It's as if there's no roof to my former home. I'm lurking above, inside of the green, green tapestry, and my past self slumbers below. Before I even recognize anything, the alarm clock goes off and he gets up. At first he just sits there blankly, but then he gets up and begins to go about things as if it was just any other day.
But it wasn't just any other day. This was the morning after you were gone and I was returned from the hospital. This was the morning where I thought everything was fine when it was most definitely not. This was when it hadn't sunk in. This was when my true hell began.
The poor man below seemed so lost. He wandered the house and you could see how much he longed for her, even though he couldn't recognize the full extent of it yet. He mutters to himself, as if he's talking to her. I just watch and wait and cry.
I wanted to drop down and embrace him and tell him to end it all, dear christ please end it all soon.
I feel myself slowly fall, like a burning leaf, towards the past and my self. I feel my limbs tremble and my head rumble and my body burn away. I was almost completely one with the emerald fire by that point.
This was the last piece left.
Soon, everything would be buried and dead and done.
It would all be burnt and blown away.
He's so unsuspecting, wrapped up in his own little world. He can feel the heat but it comes off as cold to him. He shrinks away from me and yet it doesn't do any good, I'm closer than ever. He can hardly breathe and his chest is heaving and sweating and convulsing and collapsing. Wild sage growing in the weeds.
I've almost consumed him when the walls of the stage collapse outwards. The memory gushes out from the area and we're pulled away and flushed down through the pool of memories surrounding us.