Negative Space

by B.R. Yeager

The water reached back. It stretched upward into a small, whirling torrent, up into his mouth and down his throat, until it was all the way inside him. Then he turned to me, found my eyes, and smiled wide.

The truth never makes sense unless you force it to, just like anything.

His note read THERE ARE WORSE THINGS IN THIS WORLD.

I woke up gasping. A sliver of something foreign buried in my frontal lobe. Something like an eye that wasn’t mine.

Someday I’ll wake up and it’ll be like my life’s already over, because it’ll be dozens of years from now already and I’m still the same. Sets of mirrors facing each other, expanding space and me and every moment I’ve been here. Nobody knows me, because I haven’t left anything for them, and I can’t stand to look half of them in the eye.

AW SHIT YEAH I’M BACK FROM THE DEAD.

‘The years nowadays don’t pass the way the old ones used to,’