Fade To Black

Digging in the dirt, rooting round for a lost, what...he can't remember. This happens now. Freqently. A dropped thought, a shift in focus and then gone. Like a breeze he feels as it blows past him, turning his head, changing direction, altering the landscape. Erasing it now, more than before. It started with minor blips and pauses, words perched on the tip of his tongue, voiceless, gears turning slowly, tumbling into place. Relief. The pause is longer now, the losses greater. Gaps wide enough to fall into and too deep to climb out of. His walls are papered with post its; directives, reminders, statements, questions. Lots of questions. Pictures paint a map to follow but he's shrinking, a diminishing point of focus, a pupil contracting. Blinders on, narrowing the path so that eventually he will disappear completely, what once was will fade to black.

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