Words gurgle at the back of my throat, but my tongue does not possess the energy nor the strength to push them forward. By the time I chose to open my mouth, the words clench strenuously against my jaw and my lips struggle to move. Every part of me strains, a car without an engine. By the time a single word-a single syllable-pushes past the barrier of my mouth, too much time has passed and you are already gone.
YOU ARE READING
fragments
Short Storylost words that can't find their home in any proper story, so they float aimlessly here.
