As I walk my dog, I pass my ten-year-old neighbor, who sits on her porch while talking to her friend over the phone. “When you die nothing happens. It’s just over.”
Her comment both impresses and depresses me. So young to be having such conversations. But aren’t some children attracted to the darkness of the forest? Witches and wolves? I sought them out, myself. Read the gloomiest books, rewound the saddest songs. Still, it surprises me she’s already pushed past darkness and embraced decay.
“You have to restart the game,” she continues.
Ah, a video game.
I grow closer to death.