Eye wake up in a construct. Eye lay on my bed and sweat. Eye replay final moments. Eye try to picture her face. Eye program a future version of myself to remember it, slick with seawater, ringed with wet hair.
[…]
in the ocean with her. Eye probably won’t see her
for years. Eye watch the rain through a window. Eye
construct little machines to pass the time. They keep me
awake at night. They float on the currents that move
to the edge. That’s what they’re for. Eye send them
away. Eye never said what Eye meant to say. Eye
can never revisit a moment. Eye can’t shut down the
recording device. Eye touch a face made of glass. The
nothing that builds itself while Eye sleep. Eye smash the
construct to remember its ghost. Eye never reach the edge
The isle