I can feel.

  The barest of senses. A mere glimpse of corporeity.

  I can feel.

  But not move. Can’t tell hot from cold, hurt from whole. But I know there is something. The start of a body.

  I can feel.

  The whisper. Shifting. It’s too small to put into words yet, suggestions more than descriptions. Changes so minute they barely deserve a passing mention.

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  I can feel.

  I’m alive.

  The void is so distant now. It almost feels like a lie. If I had the privilege to think, I believe I would have assumed it to be my fate.

  Eternal emptiness.

  Not even darkness. Just a nothingness so overwhelming that it dissolved me in apathy.

  There is no light, yet. Or a speck of color beyond the ones I dream about.

  But there is hope.

  I can’t remember the last time I felt its brightness.