Lost in my own machinations
I heard shouting, vaguely
At first it was just background muttering
The usual noise of a busy street
The cacophony got stronger
Without warning, a psychic shotgun
Blasting right though my skull
Deep within I felt his distress
Visually present and oddly tactile
Something had snapped
Enveloping him in tightly wound chaos
I stood in silence
Wishing I could do anything
Hoping that maybe I could transmit
Some sort of calm
But I was dying too
And I'm not quite sure why
