I can feel.


    The barest of senses. A mere glimpse of corporeity.


    I can feel.


    But not move. Can’t tell hot from cold, hurt from whole. But I know there is something. The start of a body.


    I can feel.


    The whisper. Shifting. It’s too small to put into words yet, suggestions more than descriptions. Changes so minute they barely deserve a passing mention.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    I can feel.


    I’m alive.


    The void is so distant now. It almost feels like a lie. If I had the privilege to think, I believe I would have assumed it to be my fate.


    Eternal emptiness.


    Not even darkness. Just a nothingness so overwhelming that it dissolved me in apathy.


    There is no light, yet. Or a speck of color beyond the ones I dream about.


    But there is hope.


    I can’t remember the last time I felt its brightness.