She just stood there.

Enclosed in perfect darkness.

In perfect silence.

Nothing for her to touch. Nothing for her to see

……………

How could such perfect nothingness even exist?

She wanted to talk.

Shout.

Scream.

But nothing happened.

…………………………

Couldn't she hear it? Or could she not speak?

It made no difference.

Was she standing?

Or was she sitting?

Laying?

Never mind.

No pain.

No light.

No body.

No time.

……………………………………

How does one measure time in such perfect, all-encompassing darkness?

In constricting stillness?

Without surroundings, without self?

She only consisted of thoughts.

But they all emerged and vanished at the same time.

She did not panic.

Resting in herself.

Rest in all.

Nothing but calmness existed.

Pure acceptance.

Helpless. But peaceful.

Nothing is important.

What comes - what goes - it happens without her.

She's a hull.
A hull created from nothing, filled with less than emptiness.

Where is she?

Did she already exist before this darkness?

Is she dead?

Why is she in pain?

Has she always been? Is it getting worse?

………………………………………………

Nothing she could do against it.

Maybe she already collapsed.

On her knees.

Wasn't she there all along?

Crouching.
For ever.

Since the dawn of time.

Terrible pain. Almost unbearable.

Is this what death feels like?
Isn't she already dead?

…

…

Seconds later, her photo slides out of her hand and just a moment later, her lifeless body falls to the floor.