A flower with blood-splattered petals, shredded latex gloves, torn playing cards, and a dented baseball bat. The feeling of death emanates from the gifts for some reason...
You stare down at the small assortment of items for what seems like an hour. It would seem to be a particularly random, if not a slightly mordbid group of things to an outsider. And for a moment, it feels that way to you as well. It all feels so foreboding. You can’t help but feel that this is how horror movies start.
You force yourself to blink. Shake your head. Fight it out. Focus. Grab onto a strain of thought and pull yourself back to shore. You are drowning in your own head.
You’re trying to understand it all.
Frankly, you can’t even afford to be that picky. You’re simply trying to understand anything you can get your hands on.
It takes a good moment to realize just what the implications of these…these “gifts” are. The clouds in your mind clear away, and in a rare moment, everything suddenly makes sense. You aren’t drowning anymore, but now you truly can’t breathe. Your entire body slams on brakes, and now you’re suffering the whiplash. Hold on. Shift gears. Turn around.
You understand it perfectly now. It all makes perfect sense.
And for the first time, just for a fleeting moment—
you don’t feel anything at all.
