Stories from the now

He said he was a collector. I wanted to ask if he collected bones, because actually my bones needed some new minerals, a new kind of magic inside. But I knew he wouldn't take the joke, so I replied that I was a creator. The dialogue ended with a never-ending loop of beginnings and ends, amidst a magical sky, shades of blue, and dark trees. Laughter echoed from people passing by on bicycles. I sat in the darkest corner of the garden, the silence of night enveloping me. I no longer recognized humans from non-humans, nor did I carry any more hope. Life is too short to give another person another chance or hope.