09-26-2022, 12:55 AM
set on the borders
It was a cruel thing to wake up and realize you hadn't died.
Constance often wanted to skirt the bell curve of life - that maudlin infantile era of the elderly where one resorts back to needing care. She wasn't supposed to be alive. None of the others were.
Yet she remained, time and again, not the clock but its pendulum - the scars and creases in her skin marking the metronome of time, the passing of years.
Constance got up and shook herself, scattering the sparse flakes of snow that had drifted to find purchase on her craggy shoulders. One hip slid out and she snarled at her own failing body, hopping until it came steady under her again.
“You could do more than gawk.”
Constance often wanted to skirt the bell curve of life - that maudlin infantile era of the elderly where one resorts back to needing care. She wasn't supposed to be alive. None of the others were.
Yet she remained, time and again, not the clock but its pendulum - the scars and creases in her skin marking the metronome of time, the passing of years.
Constance got up and shook herself, scattering the sparse flakes of snow that had drifted to find purchase on her craggy shoulders. One hip slid out and she snarled at her own failing body, hopping until it came steady under her again.
“You could do more than gawk.”
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