“I’ve forwarded the email to your account so you can look at the details at your own leisure. Don’t take too long, though. I think this will be a good opportunity for you.” “Uh-huh.” Luce turned on the loudspeaker and set his phone down on the pillow. He rolled over on the bed, jostling a pile of papers and notebooks. They teetered over the edge; he reached out a hand and raked them closer to the center. Fingers blindly closed around a random sheet. He lifted it to his face, squinting to scrutinize the haphazardly scribbled text. The letters were a near-incoherent jumble of lines. Something something overlapping layers something excitations causing wave packet formations … Luce’s brows furrowed in a frown. His focus faltered, and the words became senseless scribbles once more. He dropped the piece of paper. He spared a passing glance at the phone, then turned his head to face the window. The clouds were lavender-pink wisps, delicate spun silk threads weaving through a watercolor sky.
Can you hear its torturous shriek, love? My heart is seeping through the cracks and I am afraid this time the wounds are here to stay.
I am hopelessly trying to keep in one distorted piece the echo of my being, but, without my consent, the shadows are relentless and advancing with each stolen sigh.
Tangible nightmares have been strategically and painfully reformatting my essence, going through each fragment as if I were nothing.
I am slowly fading away and, even though I am desperately fighting it for you, I am realizing how much of a ghost I truly am nowadays. My senses are as useless as they are deceptive, leaving me with no guidance at