I stare at this paled poster from her, remembering -

There we are in the grayed picture, our rears extended

Faces contorted with exertion

Pulling on the cruel ropes

Of tug-of-war, half here, half there

Braided twine chafing the rough skin of our hands

Knuckles turning white, the pallor of a ghost

Keep pulling, we say, twist and turn

Don't - can't let go

We must not let it slip away

Away from our sight, from our grasp

The arcane dark inkiness of midnight approaches

Shadows creep up in the corners of my vision

A blink

I suck in a breath

And we stumble.