P u l s e . (( part twelve ))
I can’t see anything anymore, not even black. Black is still a color, and maybe would have been a relief right about now. But no, I don’t see black; all I see is nothing. No light, no color. Blank nothingness. There’s not even any pain left to agonize over except intangible heartache. I mentally call, crawl, claw for a sign of life. For a hint of vibrance --
Aleta. There’s too many things I want to say to you.
-- For sunshine. For a memory. If there are more memories, then it’s not over yet. This can’t be it. I can’t have just flashed through my life so quickly. Fate can’t be that cruel. I must still have another minute. Another few seconds --
“Don’t leave me, Logan. Please. Don’t leave me here alone.”
I don’t want to. I wish I had more time.
-- Another heartbeat, or maybe a pulse.
That’s all I want.
“So do you believe in Fate, ‘leta?”
“I dunno. What’s that?”