He’s so heavy.

He’s weighing down on my arms, making them feel like they’re going to come out of their sockets. The pull of gravity against a lifeless body is strong, apparently, even when the body isn’t technically lifeless yet.

But it may as well be. 

I trip over...something. It doesn’t matter what. It just matters that I do, and that I fall. I fall hard, and he drops. His body makes a funny noise when he lands, and it’s all I can do not to laugh. It wouldn’t be good to laugh. I know that, somewhere inside myself, but I can’t quite remember why. All I can remember, suddenly, are the bones digging in between his ribs, the tips just barely touching the fragile surface of his soul. I couldn’t pull them out. I wasn’t strong enough. 

My hands are shaking as I reach to move aside that stupid, ratty jacket, doing everything I can to ignore the holes that now pattern the worn leather. He’s going to hate that. He loves this coat more than life, I think. 

I peer carefully between his ribs, almost breathe a sigh of relief that his soul is unpunctured before I realize how grey it is. It’s not supposed to be that grey. It’s supposed to be beautiful, crimson, red. 

The thought is funny, for a moment. Almost like a pun. I’m not sure why. 

I shudder, feeling the cracks in my own bones protest against just the motion of checking him over. Maybe I should just lie down. 

Yeah.

Yeah, that would be good. Just rest for a minute. Then I can carry him. Then I can help him. He’s not gone yet, he’s not gone, maybe I can just...

I collapse into the dust that’s pooled around my knees, though it does take me a moment to realize that it’s dust. It feels like a significant realization. 

Why am I crying?

Why...