Six Months Earlier…
The wind, biting.
Biting, gnawing, numbing.
Reaching inside, then through.
Looking down: towards my chest.
I see my jacket.
The same one I wore through years of outings.
Fraying, thread by thread.
Not like fabric that has aged.
More like a digital file.
Corrupted from the edges inward.
Single threads. Not fraying, but disappearing.
My sleeve, vanished.
My arm bare.
Ever so pale against the dark gray sky.
The cold I felt was different.
Not weather.
More like data loss.
As I reach for the zipper.
My fingers that were cold passed through.
Nothing to grab. Just air.
With only the memory of the weight.
I looked at the pumpkin head just inside my field of view.
He wasn't fading; he was sharper.
He was getting clearer.
A camera in my hand felt like a lead weight.
The only thing keeping me here.
On this ground.
In this loop.
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