7 months. It's really been 7 months. I don't get it. This isn't how it's supposed to go. I don't want to admit it.
I don't understand, I was just pretending. "Sweetie,"... not something I'd ever say to someone I genuinely cared for. I've stopped saying it to him.
As a person who chose long ago to be cold, I find it hard to fathom that such a warm person could exist.
And why does he try? Why does he reach for me? What does he see? I am a robot. Calculated. I am a statue. Immovable. I am a ghost. Unknowable.
I wish he would stop, because I know it's going to hurt him. I'm going to hurt him, and that'll hurt me too.
But. Then. What if? The old what if and wondering. So delicate, a snowflake future. A snowflake sent spiralling by the wake of my snowstorm.
Human cat, I like cats, I miss my cat. I miss my run down place, I don't want to be here anymore. But I've got a job to do first, I need to do this. And I've got no room for human cats, no room for anyone.
But I guess I feel that I'm on my own more now.
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(WIP 1ST DRAFT) Welcome To The Mind Games
Science Fiction"26 players, 1 survivor, Welcome To The Mind Games, Player A." A and 25 others must work together, or against each other to survive. With little memory of their old life, A is desperate for answers. Especially when it seems A is the only player who...
