Ariana Simonetti

After the Before

Still, matte black sky encompassed the dome. The air was so thick it was tangible. Uncomfortable, almost suffocating; like an intrusive embrace from your parents’ acquaintance they call friend, who remembers when you were a baby. A baby. What a strange thought. When was the last time anyone saw a baby? My mind begins to creep to the place I have locked and sealed away for sanity and survival’s sake. And then I feel it. The air is not so still anymore. A faint humming can be picked up if you’re very quiet. You can almost feel the buzz. It was getting close. My fingers automatically begin to twist and turn the heart-shaped locket around my neck. The one keepsake I have from the time before. My penance; a blessing and a burden. Tethering me to a past that no longer makes sense for the world, grounding me to the present I cannot escape. Time to move.