May I have a moment before ''I'' go?
Prickling was she conscious of. Sensed she the meretricious movement, the path they have followed without exception, was resolutely submerged. Contrived, persevering at the debris of its own fictional serenity; perhaps meandering, flailing around negligently at imponderable leagues in dispassionate, disheartening, yet freshening waters.
The insubstantial burn on her index finger originated the odyssey to her former times. She was only the illustration of frail bodily presence, the connection to the incorporeal was undecipherable.
Had she recurrent visions, and listlessly, when the perceptiveness of her defeated being was taken into consideration, it gave the mirage more of a detrimental interpretation. And it revealed agonisingly, perchance abashedly the fragments of a multidimensional enigma.
She was unsure, she was timorous. The hungriness of the long awaited emotional security towered over her rational thinking. In an onward motion with rapid pace; peevishly, disingenuously looking for affirmation; with the intent of being assimilated from an another entity.
The distressing emotional state was she accustomed to. Was she defenceless, was she demoralised, did she not have the momentum to articulate the evidentiary misery? Confounding was her inattentiveness, which was gallant enough, to be the participant of relations, that were premeditated to be terminated in demolition. The ardent denouement of the dilemma was provisionally untangled. She was the contributor of the iterative, equivalent positions, thus she attained her enchantment rather by acquiescing the irrelevant one.
The lack of apprehension of the - same ''scenario'' with different ''performers'' - was not meant to implement or to supplant what is undoubtedly missing. The momentarily contentment of the unburden was disgraceful enough on its own.
The foul yet indistinct smell bespeaks the rotten body of hers. Consumed by whomever was quarrelled to exploit the remnants of her. Solicitously abode she her own recreation.