Apr 30, 2020
“I want it darker,” Sarah said one day after Caleb left the room. “I want it to look like my soul.”
It was too operatic, she knew, but it was what she wanted. She wanted the darkness and nothingness wrapped around her like her childhood bedroom when she’d had migraines, the sun-blocking curtains drawn, the door closed, her head under the blanket. She wanted a darkness entire and complete, like the dark in a cave when you turn off your headlamp and listen to the drip of the water slowly enlarging the stalagmites and stalactites with the minerals left behind. She wanted a darkness you could feel, that you could reach out and stroke like silk. When she was in it, cage locked and senses nulled, she felt a total and pervasive calm.
