Published: Sick Lit Magazine, 3/16/2017.
The rush of wind forms into words. “If you could know what it is to die, to experience it, to be one with it, would you?” The shadows draw together into the long strands of nimble shape. Cloaked at once, but then reveals the face. Fine lines betray not an age.
Glass set down. Water pools under it. Condensation. The interview has begun. “Would I feel pain?”
“Of course, but it is not about the pain.” A smile. Sharp intake of breath. Smoke rises. “That is just an obstacle, not the destination. You know what this is about.”
“Do I?” A tilted chin, confidence not based in fact. “My life is…barely mine. I’m willing to try.” Eyes raised. “If it means to live.”