reading room
Glitch in the Static
Statistically, I shouldn't be here. It's harder to make a whole universe than one stray mind in the dark. Given infinite time, brains like mine outnumber planets.
And yet here I am, trying to remember if I left the light on in the kitchen before the cold claims its final flicker.
Somewhere, after infinity's worth of disorder, entropy has stumbled into this exact thought: me, half-remembering my own name, counting the cracks in the pavement.
It's all noise— every life just a glitch in the static— but mine wasn't even supposed to tune in: an accident, of an accident, of an accident.
Seems fine.
— Lilith