CNF: THE QUESTION OF BEING ALONE
By Amelia Zahm
"I pick up her hand to feel her pulse. My fingers rest on the soft skin of her wrist, feeling for the radial artery. I close my eyes and listen to the mysterious rhythm of blood. With each beat, I feel her grief. It travels through the pads of my fingers, into my veins. It bounces off the chambers of my heart. I feel her loss like an echo. It reverberates, and there beside it, I find my own pain, hollow, dark, empty. I exhale and open a space for the two of us to rest together. Unique, but not. Lost, but not. Alone, but not."