This disintegration process begins well, in fact; the bubbles, the warm head, fading with a smile despite the tears.

But it does get rocky, quickly; the lapses in fear, the bouts of reality, the prayers that sneak into screams.

At least it feels like it could end soon. At least winter is coming to slow down the moon, and create a silent black shadow where this disintegration had been, silent and moving slowly across the sky, cold, and always moving.

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