The audio cut out. Elias looked down at his hands, now older and marked by different winters. He reached out and touched the edge of his desk, the wood grain rough under his fingertips. He felt the ridge of the scar on his palm.
He didn't delete the file. He renamed it Proof.m4a and moved it to his desktop, a small digital anchor for the next time the world felt like it was slipping away. touching myself (audio only).m4a
"I’m recording this because I’m starting to forget what I feel like," a voice whispered. It was his own voice, but younger—sharper. The audio cut out
Elias sat still in his darkened office, listening to the ghost of who he used to be. The younger Elias described the texture of his own sweater, the weight of his watch, the way his pulse felt against his thumb. It was a desperate attempt to prove he existed during a year when he had felt invisible. He felt the ridge of the scar on his palm