His face looms over her; he’s breathing heavily in concentration.
Safely behind the mirror, she examines him with detachment, something she could never do when she was alive.
He’s aging. Bright red capillaries lace across his cheeks, the tip of his nose is oddly blue, and he hasn’t shaved in weeks.
He keeps calling her back. Scrying for her, time and time again.
She can’t stop him, but takes consolation in his frustration at her untouchability, her silence, her inscrutability.
“Why choose death over me?” he sobs.
If he needs to ask the question, then he already has the answer.
What a terrific photo! Well done, Nathan. Back after two weeks of family time, and in the unique position of having three efforts to choose from for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. This was the least depressing of them. 🙂 Good news that our leader, Rochelle Wisoff Fields has embarked upon another book – sounds like a winner.