Inktober prompt 2 “Divided.”
The blast of the gun tears through my ears, as the bullet tears through my heart. Even as I fall the assailant is running away – an accidental murderer. He doesn’t see me die. He doesn’t see me divide.
I breathe again, and sit up. My division is sitting up too. We look at each other, gazing into each others’ eyes, and we both feel that loss of a part of ourselves. But nothing can be done. We are forever separated.
He stands and walks away from me, and I from him. This has happened before. It will happen again.