Understanding   Understanding seeps across the room like warm blood, coagulating around the shapes hunched over the desks, waiting for the light to click on in the brains thirsty for answers.
Erasure   Slowly, very slowly, bits and pieces that are part of the person you have been begin to fuzz, then disappear, like erasures from a printed page that can change the shape and character of the text, until finally, it ceases to exist altogether.
Is it time?   For a long time I thought I was immortal— well, not really immortal, just unlikely to die for years and years and years.   And then, as I got older, I knew I would die . . . eventually . . . but that was sometime in the distant future.