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The footsteps had stopped for a moment, seeming to wait for her reply, and then started again. This time it was clear that the steps were coming towards her. Up from a newly formed pile of ash, a pair of translucent black boots wavered in the light, almost as if they were a holoprojection.
“You seem to letting yourself go, as well.”
Mumbling to herself that it was just exhaustion and that the hallucinating would go away, she pinched the bridge of her nose again while rubbing the inside corners of her eyes. She has much to do and didn’t need anyone to see this scene, not to mention to begin questioning whether or not she is still competent for her position.
With that thought in mind, Cynthia snaps her head back in the direction she came from to make sure that she was most definitely alone; ready to either coerce the individual that they saw nothing and that there will be consequences if they ever uttered a single word to anyone or to straight up kill them and dispose of the corpse if they wouldn’t cooperate with her. Relieving a sigh, she faced back to the direction she was going in but did not move from her position, blinking a couple of times. By the stars.
It was not the exhaustion creating a hallucination of her late father. The spectral imagery of familiar boots and the disembodied projection of an unforgettable voice were real.
