My Comfort Object Is A Heavy Backpack Filled With Items
My comfort object is a heavy backpack filled with items
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Drunk chortle
Great. I behaved like a mindless animal. Then again humans had instincts too, and my situation had been particularly dire the past few days. Surely she would be understanding. It was best to not overthink. I held a fortune of rose quartz over her head. My insurance.
She coaxed me onto a glass table. I took refuge in her shadow, trying to keep my pulse down. This was it. No crevices. A huge wall of nothingness ahead. Anything could dive down and catch me. Anything could jump from the shadows.
Laila lit a candle. A small, domesticated fire.
“Are you sure this is fine? It’s so open out here,” I asked. I stared into the flickering flame. The buzz of crickets struggled to fill the silence. “Nothing is going to hurt you, you can come closer if you’d like,” she said. I leaned against her hand, covering at least my back. She remained calm. My eyes slowly adjusted to darkness.
Our surroundings were a void. A mass of trees beneath us, so domineering and ubiquitous that it was as if they were a single entity. Above a certain threshold everything ceased.
“When you look up there is nothing,” I said.
“Are you talking about the sky?”
Art by Juluurkhan Khalgaev