the city outside never saw light. Always made its own.
"Are you sure it will work this time?"
"You shouldn't be holding any doubts. It's dangerous you know."
He took the candle and went to the other room while she made herself lonely again, as he'd asked. It was the moments of time where she found her safety. The spaces that stand still between the ticks and tocks, the subsiding panic and the following rise. She stuffed blankets into the crevasses of her thoughts so she could sleep on them and perhaps find a way out. More often than not, she just found memories.
But he believed in her. He was the only one to notice the cryptograms because no one else bothered to look far enough. Every time she felt the pain was a lost opportunity to decipher. He cared. He had to care. This was her chance at divinity. His chance to know the truth.
"Are you ready?"
She didn't respond
"Alright. Here we go"
She aligned her back with the floorboards and pretended to sleep as air and copper spun around her. She began to feel it working, moving inside her like a flame dancing in circles. He asked her how she felt, but she couldnt speak. The fluttering feeling was too overwhelming.
"I think it's working," he said.
She felt gravity losing its pull and suddenly there was no up or down. No floor or direction or temperature. And soon after, all that remained was silence and inifinite clarity. But inside, she was calm. She was blissful.
The anima of a spirit has no delineation or detail. It becomes homogenous, weightless, impenetrable. Unimaginable.
Was she a spirit? She couldn't decide. It wasn't her decision or really a decision at all. Whatever she'd become, she remained cognizant of her own existence.
"...a-......are you..."
The flickering candlelight showed his face, incredulous and fearful. He hesistantly made his way into the room. Inching closer to the faint glow he saw where he had left her. A gust from an open window snatched up his candle flame and flung the window shut. It was silent.
"Yes"
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