I had forgotten what being a zombie had been like. Then again, zombies have an insatiable craving for human flesh in between their bouts of slowly shuffling about.
Maybe zombie isn’t the right word…
I used to be a zombie. I used to just exists from day to day. Time didn’t exist in the big gray blob of apathy. I’m not complaining or reminiscing, just stating the neutral fact.
At some point things became colorful. There was the warm orange glow of the sun. It was so bright that I had to squint lest I be overwhelmed.
There was also the impossibly deep blue shadows, voids so devoid of light, it is as if the sun never even existed.
I said, things ‘became’ colorful, but that’s not accurate either. They were colored in, by Her. Thanks to Her, Monday was different than Wednesday. I laughed and cried and smiled and wept.
Tidal waves on my heart threatened to shatter it, but instead it defied the laws of physics and grew stronger.
Then she left. And took the colors with her.
This time I wish my zombie eyes could see beyond the gray.