Author : Faris Naimi
“Is that what you call a life?” The woman was shouting at him. She was wearing a black dress, like she was going to a funeral. She was beautiful, but her face was contorted with so much anger that you wouldn’t expect it to be able to fit into such a small, delicate lady.
“That is pathetic! No! You are pathetic! You’re just going to leave me here? Does all of this mean that little to you?” She spread her arms out to her sides, as if she was surrounded by countless people whom he would miss, but she was alone in the empty park. Standing on the grass, her expression changed from one of anger to one of sorrow. He thought that he saw tears in her eyes before, but now there was no questioning it. She was crying. Her eye makeup was running and now she was pleading with him. “Please don’t go! I don’t want to see you go! We’ll never be able to do any of the things that we used to! I’ll never get to kiss you, or hold your hand, or even see you!”
He wanted to tell her otherwise. He wanted to argue his side of everything. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t talk. He knew what she looked like but he couldn’t see her. His heart would be breaking, if he had one. He’d feel a gaping hole in his chest, if he had one.
She clearly had nothing more to say to him. She ran away from her. Running. Something else that he couldn’t do.
He woke up with a shock. It was just a nightmare. He might have cried, if he could have. His optic sensors displayed to him his usual surroundings. The familiar dark room. He sat on the wall, on top of the highest shelf. He was soaked in the preservation fluid as his disembodied brain floated in the glass canister. Sometimes he wondered whether or not eternal “life” was worth it.
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