In each of those moments, just before it attempted to feast on Graham's shambling mind, she felt relief. The thing sometimes shifted to look like one of Graham's colleagues. Three days ago, there was more to her life than miles and miles of yellow hills and golden grains. No, it did not care what she was (besides edible). She killed the only other thing in here with her. And while the facts slipped from her mind, the facts were present nonetheless. She had been alone in the desert world for three days now. So she just felt regret that she did not understand why she should be feeling loss. If she could remember more things she would have felt loss too, but regret was the only thing left. It was almost as if she wasn't dying alone.Īll that Graham felt was regret. She became thankful for its orange glow, to brighten up her eternal night. Disappointed this was how she'd spend her final minutes, which had now stretched into hours.Īs she sat in the cold, Ramirez found herself apologizing to Lamplight. It made her feel better at first, but then disappointed soon after. She might be cold now, but at least she had follow through. Ramirez liked the sound of that word, "conviction". No one in that entire goddamn town had the conviction to step into the dark to find the answers. How could they be happy just sitting there in that orange bubble of theirs? They said they wanted to experience the mystery, build the world around it, but that was nothing more than an excuse. And now she was livid, so she took it out on the citizens of Lamplight. She was expecting to die five minutes ago. She was cold, alone, and unsatisfied.īut her train of thought continued despite her expectations. And now that she found her answers, she wished she had remained ignorant. She wanted answers so badly that she gave up the comfort of the extradimensional settlement. So she gave into her fate, and took a seat on whatever matter she was standing on. Like the cosmic cold flooding into her would not leave, no matter how close she got to those beacons of heat. One dangled high in the sky the other radiated from the city of Lamplight. And after what could have been an eternity, existence answered:įorgotten, and stumbling in the cold, the only features Agent Ramirez could distinguish were the warm orange lights, now too far away for her to reach. It could've been minutes, it could've been years, but Cervantes waited for a reply. The universe paused to contemplate this thought. "Like, is there someone who archives the world's blue?" "I was just wondering, are there other… things like you?" "Excuse me?" Cervantes didn't know how to address the Red. The wine all tasted the same, and her tongue numbed to strawberries. Cervantes could've sworn she'd seen that cherry pie, or that blood transfusion. Each moment a rollercoaster.īut after so much time, the visions lost their vibrancy. Then the view hurdled her into operating rooms, warzones, and red-faced arguments. One second she saw an artist's passion, a mother's embrace, and the exchange of Valentine's Day chocolates. Observing the world through a crimson lens had brought her so much excitement. After the first five years, Agent Cervantes forgot there were other colors.
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