can show you how they I Thomas, his brain is less permeable—but “I work,” try. “Even crack it, and he will miss you, and then we will all be we’ll together.” would she says. feels like everything is going quiet. a “I rather…fade away,” “It There’s dark wide room, but this one little patch is so clean and bright I quiet…so can’t see…” I would miss I say at last. It even sound convincing to me. I am no “But you,” doesn’t longer waiting for her to recognize me, and say aloud how much she missed me, and how much more she should have missed me. How Benjamin was a terrible idea, but now that she was more like me she realized that I had stayed with them all along and be replaced by any blob of couldn’t flesh that breathes. I try, quenching the disgust that builds up through my form at the “Benjamin needs you,” words. one could blame Marceline whispers. She is so faint at the borders that I “No me,” can’t tell where Shadow ends and the shining floor tile begins. one could tell me I should stick “No like a nightmare in their minds, or watch my other child grow up without being able to hold it. Not when right here is so small…and quiet…” I search my mind for all the sentences, words and nouns that up to say. I’d hoarded Phrases from her dreams that I was waiting to turn against her. Questions about the life that I barely recall, and my death, which I remember. Nothing comes, and she dwindles down don’t and down until barely more than a voice and the outline of wrinkles and bone-thin limbs. there’s I try again. “Benjamin—” “and Thomas—” me you will take care of the Shadow says, in the lilting radio tones “Promise Benjamin,” I know so slow, and I’ll miss. “Everything…feels quiet.”
“I can show you how they work,” I try. “Even Thomas, his brain is less permeable—but we’ll crack it, and he will miss you, and then we will all be together.” “I would rather…fade away,” she says. “It feels like everything is going quiet. There’s a dark wide room, but this one little patch is so clean and quiet…so bright I can’t see…” “But I would miss you,” I say at last. It doesn’t even sound convincing to me. I am no longer waiting for her to recognize me, and say aloud how much she missed me, and how much more she should have missed me. How Benjamin was a terrible idea, but now that she was more like me she realized that I had stayed with them all along and couldn’t be replaced by any blob of flesh that breathes. “Benjamin needs you,” I try, quenching the disgust that builds up through my form at the words. “No one could blame me,” Marceline whispers. She is so faint at the borders that I can’t tell where Shadow ends and the shining floor tile begins. “No one could tell me I should stick like a nightmare in their minds, or watch my other child grow up without being able to hold it. Not when right here is so small…and quiet…” I search my mind for all the sentences, words and nouns that I’d hoarded up to say. Phrases from her dreams that I was waiting to turn against her. Questions about the life that I barely recall, and my death, which I don’t remember. Nothing comes, and she dwindles down and down until there’s barely more than a voice and the outline of wrinkles and bone-thin limbs. “Benjamin—” I try again. “and Thomas—” “Promise me you will take care of Benjamin,” the Shadow says, in the lilting radio tones I know I’ll miss. “Everything…feels so slow, and quiet.”