[The faint whispers of dread curl up in his mind and offer up a white expanse broken up by notes of darkness. It might not be the same thing. He takes a breath and says,] When it came up, did anyone mention a feeling of wrongness? Or golden light? Or like the world itself tore?
[Any one of those on their own is worrying. And he hopes deep down it’s none of them.]
no subject
[Any one of those on their own is worrying. And he hopes deep down it’s none of them.]