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He’d not seen her since she left 10 years ago, and now, here he was, in solitary. The surveillance guard would’ve slept at least 12 minutes ago, and he should be alone. Would the moon be his witness? Would it be the final catalyst for the collapse that reality would experience? He readied the makeshift shank between his fingers, surprised that it was held stable and unwavering against his forearm.

His available senses were telling him that the alarm was blaring, but all he could hear were faded repetitions of an unfamiliar sound. His hands had completed the deed, of course, and the guard stood rooted in front of his limp body, mouth gaping– or at least could’ve been, through his blurred vision. He could not see the moon, and it could not him, so he blinked, slowly, and wondered if realities had split. He breathed, and wondered if there was a universe in which she could still be lain in his arms, the sound of her breathing soft in his ears.