.iv.

This is just an interlude. A waiting room. A purgatory. Monochrome. Nothing to do but stare.

She supposes she could think. She doesn’t know if she still knows how.

Wait to live, wait to die. Any day now, they will know.

She wonders which will be worse. The waiting or the knowing. There is much to be said in favour of ignorance. But she already knows that.

The End

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