They are faint echoes coloring every moment of my continued existence. You can’t call them memories, not exactly, because they never actually occurred. They are more like dreams. Or possibilities.
Either way, I am haunted.
They say–and by they, I mean the quantum physicists–that prior to its observation, a particle exists in superposition, in every possible quantum state simultaneously. I know this to be true. My world, ever since the moment of the accident, has become superpositioned. There is the reality in which she died, or the reality in which she’s still alive, and they exist forever in parallel