Some things I remember.
Some things I can't
Like who I am. Or how come I'm sitting naked on a beach next to a dead man. And yet I know why I'm here.
I'm waiting for dawn to give him a final kiss goodbye before she guids his soul onto his next life.
The breeze that curles around me is cold, as cold as the surrounding sand is harsh. And yet these sensations are a fleeting thing. Goose bumps might tremble across my skin, and sand might grate across my butocks and thighs, but both fail to register on anything more than a flesh level. I feel no cold, no pain, no sorrow.
Nothing.
It's as if I'm dead inside. As dead as the man lying beside me. Yet, for some reason, I'm still breathing and he isn't.
Why?
It's a question that haunts me, teasing the frozed edges of my thoughts and memories.
Why him and not me?
I don't know, I just don't know, and yet I know it's a question that's important. I know my life might well depend on the answer.