When You Look Back There's Nothing There
This city eats people whole. It ate me, and it's still eating me - remembering her - her face, the way she looked when she was pointing that chunk of metal and wood straight at me like a kid who doesn't know what they're even doing. Only she knew all right. I left that city, but all I'm seeing is her; everywhere, anywhere. Yeah, that place ate her up all right. The pieces of her are still left behind - back there. On the walls. In the ground. But they're with me now, too. You can't look back without seeing the pain, but mostly when you look back there isn't anything left at all. Not even a ghost to haunt you. Just yourself.
Intended for printing with a simulated process.