OOM

After This:



Milliways is there for those who need it.

So they say.




I was dead.
I was dead.

I was dead.

And now I'm - well, not.




The door swings behind her and the grass beneath her feet is cool and soft. The sun is going down behind the mountains and the sky is streaked with color. All is green and cool and beautiful.

Last summer, it was boiling hot and every spare day was spent indoors or at the beach - not of a lake, but the Pacific Ocean, and they had to take a bus to get there unless their parents dropped them off and... and if she were there right now, there would be no buses and the beaches probably survived but not without their own scars and if she survived if she survived if she survived if she if and if.



Walk. Steps. One in front of the other.

If she had survived, what would she have said?

Trees up ahead, turn, the way is clear.

How would she have justified?

Move, just move.

Was. Was dead.

Run.



Jog, really. Just move. Until all of her energy is taken up with breathing and moving and staying upright.

Or just the last two.

Was. Was dead.