#*dorjee

four steps.

it’d only take her four steps to close the distance between where the shadow falls and where she stands. outside, it couldn’t look more gentle, forgiving, the grass dewy from the downpour earlier that morning. asana doesn’t move. her hands are knotted fists at her sides. there are forces in this world that could move mountains, but it took one look for the earth to quiver, split free beneath her feet.

two years ago, they’d found the burnt remains of a body. two years ago, she’d been possessed by one word, gone, gone, gone, for good, and the inconceivable agony that had nearly swallowed her whole. a single revelation, a shadow, and the glass shatters in full.

her thoughts are erratic, a charged white noise that drowns out all sense of reason. dark eyes remain fixed on him. her own silence is deafening.

a ghost. he has to be. that’s what those days, nights, hours have told her at her worst. a ghost, a ghost, a ghost, nothing but ash and a rusted relic of a memory.

(so who is this trembling for?)

four steps. she takes a step back.