“How did it feel?” I would have asked had I seen you again, but over a year later, the question feels grey; not black, not white, but grey; a shade that exists in everyone; a shade that is everyone. It simply exists, like everything else, waiting for a time that may not even pass, that might not even pass, that will never ever pass.
A question asked.
A question not asked.
A question with no answer.
A question that is the answer.
It destroyed me.
It changed me.
I hope you’re well.
- Jaclyn