The silence between us has shifted. It is no longer jagged and terrifying. It is heavy, yes, but it is the heaviness of a shared, unspeakable burden. After he sat with me by the door, something in the air broke. We both know the truth now, even if we are too cowardly to say it out loud.
I am dead. I am trapped. I am disappearing.
It is the evening of the fifth day. Ronan is sitting on the sofa, bathed in the cool blue glow of his phone screen. I drift over and sit beside him. My transparency has worsened. My legs, from the knees down, are almost completely gone. It takes effort now just to maintain the illusion of sitting; I feel more like I am hovering slightly above the cushions.
I lean sideways, glancing at his screen.
He is looking at his photo gallery. He is scrolling slowly, deli
