“ Everything born has to die, in order to make room for the future. ”
[S]omehow, without his being aware of it, time had coated his awe with a rind of disillusionment, and the wine of wonder had turned to vinegar.
~ Joan D. Vinge
How time slips past, masked in the rhythm of the days!
I stood where they'd left me. I watched them get smaller and smaller as they went down the hallway, leaving me there without a word, not even looking back. Only I was getting smaller and smaller, being swallowed up in the suffocating emptiness of the silent house; so that by the time they came back again, I would have disappeared.
Don't worry. You're safe now. You've got nothing left to steal.
