She wanted to call out for Kevin. But that would’ve involved taking a deep breath, which in turn would’ve reminded her she wasn’t breathing at all. What if her voice had no more substance than the wind?
She stepped closer to one of the vaults, where a crucified Jesus averted his eyes. Behind the sculpture, in the mirror, she didn’t see much more than darkness, and just a hint of her own eyes. As if it was confirmation.
“I’m not dead,” she whispered.
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