#c.b.l.

Her room was still, the faint trails of her scent rising with the disturbance of this new body, which had never known her enough to be struck by it - by the exacting concentration of the person she was - no longer. It was a personal and impersonal place, like a funeral parlor decorated for the departed by a stranger who had never known them. Personal artifacts made the walls claustrophobic, straining to hold them, and yet there was nothing of the person she had been. Nothing to give insight on the woman she had never known, nothing to tell who she was in the silence, when no one else was watching. Nothing of fear, or betrayal, nothing of the woman she’d always been before she could be nothing for the rest of eternity.

Craic Appeal : "Rifles"