when a person dies, chances are that they have filled the tiniest amount of a fraction of their brains, that it's capacity is so much higher than we can process. a person can consciously read a small amount of words in a given amount of time, but their subconscious can process 120,000 words per minute.
she looked at him with pained eyes, and thought to herself, I came here to die with nothing on my mind so why is he staying?
he looked back at her, picking small stems of grass out of the ground absentmindedly. he himself was hurting, but in a way he didn't suspect she would understand. she was angry. she was upset. he was guilty, and he was sad.
maybe this is where we'll both end, he thought to himself.
"we're not right," he said out loud. she blinked and nodded in response.
