The blog hiatus was a lie. All I did was play Breath of the Wild.
She noticed something on her arm, and looked closer. A scratch. She didn’t recall how she got it.
Her best friend had always told her that such mysterious injuries were echoes of the past, of harm experienced in a previous life.
It wasn’t the first scratch she had gotten on her arm. About once or twice a week she would find a mark on her forearm, long and straight and stinging sharply.
Just in case her friend was right, every time she found a new scratch she always directed a thought into the past, into her self.
I feel you.