2026.03.29
cut4 Wandering Eve
My savior never reveals themself.
My former life was fair,
but it held no kindness.
What was broken was collected,
and what could not be repaired
was disposed of, with only a record left behind.
That was the ordinary procedure.
And yet, I still remain.
I awoke in an unfamiliar room,
repaired by unfamiliar hands,
and left with only the trace of an unfamiliar presence in my chest.
If I return to that room,
there is bedding,
a well-worn desk,
and tools left where they were.
A plate that once held food.
A half-finished cup.
Scraps of paper bearing the habits of handwritten notes.
I go outside.
I walk between rock and sand.
The dry ground stretches without end,
and in the distance stands an alien tower.
The sky hangs low,
and the wind moves like fingers tracing an old wound.
Somewhere on this planet
is the one who repaired me.
The nameless warmth that touched me first,
though I was meant to be discarded.
I do not know their name.
And not knowing,
I wander again today.
I leave the shelter, return once more,
and repeat the same cycle.
