I feel dead. San sits at her desk and writes all that she feels.
I feel dead.
She grimaced to herself. This is pathetic. She gets up from her chair and shrugs off her shawl before moving out her bedroom door.
Where am I going? Nowhere, really.
Her footsteps don't have any purpose. She goes downstairs and lays down on the daybed, but soon slugs back up and continues to walk.
Purpose. She laughs. What is purpose?
Exactly.
San slinks to her knees, then drops to the floor. Why get up? She stops to think of an answer. There is no reason to get up. Honestly and truly.
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