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They ask, Do you feel restless? No. Do you feel lethargic? No. Do you feel anything? Your mother had known Him once, a long time ago. That was when He was kinder, gentler and less ruined. Before He had seen so much, she says. You know that she blames herself for what happened to you. You hear her at night, whispering in the dark and asking the shadows for forgiveness. You want to take her hand and tell her that you’re sorry, that you wish you had been able to wait a few more days. But you can’t tell her and you can’t go back so you breathe slowly and you count and you skip meals. Before that day you had known so much less. You had not understood how something could seem like salvation but leave you feeling so weak. Discovery is a painful process. You tasted the fruit and now there is no Paradise left for anyone. Your therapist gives you worksheets with boxes to fill in. You mark your mood on a scale and count the hours of sleep you’ve had this week and she makes a graph of your anxiety levels. They have not got higher or lower and you don’t know what this means but you don’t ask either. You feel like you are watching someone else and judging their ability to ÉCLAT FICTION

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MAY 2012

Profile for Eclat Fiction

Éclat Fiction - Issue 3  

The third issue of Éclat Fiction (an online short story anthology). www.eclatfiction.com

Éclat Fiction - Issue 3  

The third issue of Éclat Fiction (an online short story anthology). www.eclatfiction.com

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