Beneath the smooth surface of bone, the structure was like stilled foam. Bubbles of air trapped in a honeycomb of bone. The piles of broken off pieces grew as I tunneled deeper and deeper.
As the days dragged on, the stump of the tree grew more and more unstable due to me pulling out so much of the root system. Eventually the stump fell over, just as the majority of the trunk had fallen earlier with the split. I felt no remorse or sorrow for the tree at that point. The irritation had set in completely and I was only too glad to help it on its way.
I slept sporadically, with no way of telling how long I had been asleep each time I woke and saw that my environment had changed very little from when I had drifted to sleep. This was soul killing in itself. I died a little each time I opened m
