A whisping shell of what’s genuine
Never as is but as projected
A blur of material things
Some live as shadows
Artificial clones
Wandering
Towards freedom in the dark
The DeliverBot drops the box at my feet and wheezes out a metallic "Happy Birthday" before flying away. At first, I think it's a mistake, because it isn't my birthday. At least, I don't think it is
...
[+]
"Who are you?" her mother asked. "I'm your daughter, Alice." "I know that. But I mean, who are you?" Her mother's eyes locked onto hers; she was clutching Alice's eyes. What did she mean
...
[+]