peaches

She should be comforted. But his smile is still all teeth, no light in eyes. His hand on her shoulder is ice-cold, the hands of the dead grasping at their one lifeline, too desperate to mean much. His touch still burns.

When we were born, the island itself was tethered to the mainland, and then there was no longer a mystical floating isle in the sky, just like that; all that was left was a lifeless chunk, frozen in time, trapped on Earth.

All good things must come to an end. As she said earlier, nothing lasts forever. Still, she stared off into the distance, hoping for that bell to never ring, for the train to never slow to a halt, for herself to never pass the threshold.