Echo Comments

The last words ever spoken echo in the dark night. A summer breeze sweeps through the now deserted wasteland, lending false comfort to what, if anything, still exists.

I feel myself being, not breathing, not seeing, not hearing, not touching, not tasting, nor moving. I feel; no, I sense, that there are others around me. Others wandering in what seems to be an aimless fashion. Whether it is or not, no one knows.
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