Rum is
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It feels like when I died.
__________________________________ I can feel that I am afraid, but it's a faraway sensation, like I'm looked down on it from a high bridge. My fear is down there, drifting slowly on the river, real but not reachable.
Everything goes slow. I realized that my watch has stopped: I can feel the cold metal back against my wrist, and there is no trick of the second-hand to beat out in time with my pulse.
My pulse has stopped, too. I am between heartbeats. The stillness is rising in me, a perfect wave of cold motionless.
His fingers rest on my shoulders. Again, I don't flinch at His touch. I didn't then because I didn't know better. I don't now because his fingers are a part of mine, like my hand moving on its own.
So I see others in front of me, now grey and indistinct. The Caul is over my eyes - shapeless, but casting a shadow in my mind.
A shadow shaped like Him.__________________________________
