The moment of death doesn’t happen when the body stops breathing.
No, that’s just the final release.
True death happens a long time before the body gives up. It happens as the inevitability of fate settles on the mind like tar, poisoning thoughts and tearing the future away. Gone is the blue sky and sun-warmed skin. Gone is the sound of laughter and friendly faces. Gone is the smell of freshly cut grass and that moment when laughter gets so intense it starts to hurt.
There is no time to mourn happy memories. The silence is deafening, filling existence with its wail, its black light so bright that everything becomes a reflection of what it was.
And you take her hand and force yourself to look at her, really look at her, as the words sink in. Torture, stripped of its weapons and reduced to those seven words, finally reveal its purest form.
“There will be cheese on your food.”
This post is part of Nicky and Mike’s 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing challenge. Today’s prompt is Cheesy. Go check out We Work For Cheese for a list of the other participants. *