The Last Word

by Taylor Adams

It’s nice to submerge yourself in someone else’s world, to luxuriate in the handcrafted details and admire the false ceilings.

She’s been told introverted personalities recharge with alone time, something like managing a social battery. And while that’s accurate—because most people tend to exhaust the ever-loving shit out of Emma—she’s always pictured herself more like clay, a shapeless form that reluctantly morphs to meet the daily needs of her surroundings.

Very little frightens her—the worst thing that can happen to any human already happened to her months ago—but she fears what she becomes when she’s alone, where her mind will go if she lets it wander.

It’s not about the story’s quality. It’s about distracting herself, putting her mind on a treadmill. Anything is better than being alone with her thoughts.

Emma doesn’t like to be seen. Being seen burdens you with an image you have to maintain.

I feel like I’m afraid of something. But there’s nothing there.

You never know how finite your time together really is until it’s up.

He’ll be even more dangerous now. More than ever, Emma misses the stars. She wishes she could see through the rain clouds and be assured that Aries and Gemini and Messier 31 are still out there. Even the constellations will wander and drift apart, if you could live long enough to see it happen. Even the stars will die.

“Incredible. Most people wouldn’t fight that hard.” “A dog person would.”