XVI.

she stared at the screen for five minutes now.

she had read a lot about that moment a million times already —

the cursor blinking, no, pulsating,

like a sickly heart that skips a beat,

and the screen is an immaculate blank still,

the world transforms into that swirling vortex of whatever,

and you get drowned in,

no, you get sucked in —

pictures, faces, pictures, faces,

faces,

feelings, voices,

thoughts, faces, voices,

that voice,

his voice.

it was not exactly how they wrote it in books, she figured.

no it isn’t.