Chasm
Daniel Jackson enters, a frame in his hand.
The frame turns.
Sha’re.
He remembers her.
He is excited, and I nearly smile at his rapid speech.
I am pleased to see my friend re-emerging.
But then he inquires as to her whereabouts.
I falter.
I cannot speak.
But I do not need to.
Daniel Jackson is not a child.
My face betrays me.
“She’s dead.”
I nod, and a chasm opens in my soul.
The knowledge that I made the right choice does not comfort me in the face of my friend’s pain.
And I am doubtful it ever will.
The End
