Sign Off

What's left is a recording,

The last traces of her voice muffled by static.

It doesn't dampen the last bit of humor in her words,

The softness of her accent.

But neither does it hide the cracking of her voice,

The faltering of her words,

In what she knows are her final moments.

In the end,

She says her goodbye,

Quick and rushed before her tears get the better of her.

She signs off.

And then she's gone.

Serina out.