Cynosure

A moment of both celebration and mourning, of the dreams you have lived and those futures not realized; of the masks of the past and the veil of the future; of the passing of yesterday, and the inevitability of tomorrow.

The One After

The clock struck midnight and she was gone.

I was here.

If my name is on the page, if my name is scrawled on some distant pillar, I can’t disappear.

I was here.