May 2001 (August 2001)

Disclaimer: We were never told it was like this. Set during Spiral, or thereabouts. Edited by elynross. Do not archive this story without permission.


This denotes thought. This is telepathy. This denotes thought. This is telepathy.

In a dark room, things do not stay in place. They move like dancers under a strobe light, in between moments. They touch her skin and move away, touch and move away.

Once, at the beach, there was rain. Now she wants sunshine and she is not allowed to have it. Now she wants sunshine, and someone takes it away.

Someone had the softest hands.

In a dark room, there is sound and motion. Things sway, up and down, side to side, in waves. There were waves. At the beach. And many things after that and she is sure they're somewhere in a dark room where she cannot see them.

This denotes thought.

Someone had the softest hands and touched her inside and out and left fingerprints on her heart.

This is telepathy.

Sitting on the beach, and the rain came pouring down, and they had to be home before dawn. Now she wants sunshine, light that burns the dark touches away. Someone will not let her have it.

And she knows something is important, and it crawls on her skin like ants. This denotes thought. This is telepathy.

There is no end.

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