She began pondering all the last moments. The last time she said this. The last time she saw this. The last time she did that. The last time she said that. The last time she saw their faces.
This is where the cruelty and beauty of life merge. It’s so cruel that those were the last moments. But it’s so beautiful that they happened.
That they happened to her.
Suddenly, everything that ever happened to her felt heavy, pressing against her soul, stabbing the crevices of her mind, gripping her body like a vice. She couldn’t breathe.
This is what happened last time.
Her eyes flew open when the shattering of a million pieces whispered in her ears. All the moments, everything that ever happened to her were there, in pieces, scattered on the ground. Then she saw it.
Every piece was the first word, first page, first chapter of another story. These were not last things.
And this wouldn’t be the last time He would remind her of this.