Glimpses and flashes were all that persisted after that last one.
Just fleeting moments.
Undefined forms and noises incoherent were all that would unravel in the swirling blackness, day after day, memory after memory. It was like Adalia's sense of time was no longer congruent, or maybe she just didn't care enough to keep track of it all anymore.
Either way, days would whirl past my eyes in spans of slippery seconds—a literal blink-and-you-miss. I did my best to follow along though, and from what I could see, hear, and guess—Adalia was on a steeper descent down the hill of denial.
The first memory was strange, an outlier, yet also very much familiar. It was just Adalia lying in bed for seemingly the whole day. Tossing and turning in place until her beddings were pulled from the mattress, and ended up swathing her body in crumpled sheets. She tried, but she simply could muster the energy to leave her bed. Too sleepy, I suppose.
Apologies for not publishing yesterday. This chapter took a lot of redrafts...