Nothing is inflammable, p.31
Nothing Is Inflammable, page 31
“This is the way . . . this is the only way it could have gone for us . . . ” he told me.
I tried to answer but my throat was as full of hot blood as an Ebola Marburg victim.
I think he said damn but I couldn’t be sure.
I pulled myself over to him, slumped onto his back and pressed my face close to his.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “This is how it is.”
His hand closed around mine and my vision went in one sudden blink as my eyes filled with blood.
And in the darkness, I found myself wondering what would happen to my sister now. Would she hold on, now that there was nobody left for her to awaken to? Or would she step over? Into the water, off of the ledge. Bring it to an end.
I would never find out.
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Table of Contents
Notes Towards the Design and Production of the Protohuman
Devastation
Pretty
FuckPunktown
Her Love For Me Is Oxyacetylene
Elisabeth Afterlife is Dead
Rage Against The Machines
Emotion Sickness
Simon Logan, Nothing Is Inflammable
