Blank Stare

Your words garner only a blank stare in response. You wait, expecting her to say something eventually, but she remains silent, eyes not wavering from yours.

The blank stare continues.

It stretches for so long that you begin to wonder if she really is a human woman, or if you have been dating some sort of eldritch abomination this whole time and it is only through luck and her good will that you have escaped destruction.

You lose yourself in the blank stare, and your girlfriend’s eyes begin to look unnervingly like the void, a bottomless abyss of despair framed by one disdainfully raised eyebrow.

There is nothing but the stare. You find that you have trouble remembering your own name, where you are, what you were doing. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny voice suggests that you ought to say something to break the silence.

The voice falters, its frail cries meaningless compared to the echoing expanse that surrounds it and you and her.

The voice is gone. You’re not sure it ever really existed at all.

You feel rather than think the realization that you don’t even know what you’re looking at anymore. You’re sure there must once have been something there once–eyes, perhaps?–but now there is nothing, not the absence of something but the actual presence of nothing, and you feel that you ought to shiver but you can’t remember how.

You feel yourself falling, though surely you can’t be moving, falling so swiftly that when you finally hit the ground–as you must, or else fall forever, which is an equally terrifying prospect–there’s no way you could survive the fall (if indeed a fall it is, as down seems to be such an improbable concept that it might as well not even exist).

Just as you can take it no longer, as you are sure that your consciousness will be extinguished any instant, the void snaps back and you are left in a reality that suddenly feels incomprehensibly foreign, like your own hand on your face after it has fallen asleep, and your girlfriend is giving you a look, just an ordinary look, that’s all.

“Hmph,” she says, and turns away.


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