∼ Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

An action we all do effortlessly and unconsciously every day of our life, yet right now it's all I can think about, as if every neuron in my brain was fixated on this one action: breathing. I never imagined a day would come when I'd need to consciously think about breathing, but there's no time to be surprised now.

∼ My legs... where are they? Do I even have legs?

If only I could check it out. After having legs for eight years, I'm suddenly worried they've vanished. Legs don't just disappear, and I never imagined I would ever doubt their existence. I'm aware that I'm moving, and moving fast, but I have no idea what's driving me at such speed. I could be flying and wouldn't notice the difference, but there's no time to look at my feet either.

In fact, aside from my ribcage which I can feel swelling like a toad during mating season — to the point where it's a mystery it hasn't exploded yet — I can’t feel anything. Not my legs, nor my arms, and not even my head, which should be resting gently on my neck.

I look ahead, yet I see nothing. The last I knew, I was in a forest, but I could just as easily be in a grassfield or on a frozen lake without noticing. I'm moving too fast for my brain to process the images my eyes are sending, and it's already busy with my breathing anyway, so let's not insist.

I think I am bleeding, but I can't guarantee that either. All I know is that I'm not very concerned about it. Blood flows, coagulates then disappears. Some wounds never fully heal, but most of them do eventually. I know it because I've had quite a few since I’m able to walk. If there was a contest for scars, I'd probably win easily. As for the reason of my bleeding, I really don't care. My brain has decided it's not the top priority right now.

∼ What is more important, then?

∼ ESCAPE!

∼ Escape from what? To go where?

I have no idea. That's not important either. What matters is that I'm breathing and moving forward. Everything else is just a distraction from my race.

∼ My race?

I seem to be running, after all. I've run countless times in my life. In fact, not a day went by without me running, for one reason or another. And even without a reason, I'd still run, but I had never run to escape, and never to the point where I doubted the presence of my legs. Now I realize there are as many ways to run as there are reasons. Strangely enough, running feels easier than breathing. At least I don't have to think about it — my legs know what to do and do it brilliantly, as if they had a mind of their own.

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Suddenly, the shapes in front of me start turning white, and I feel my eyelids tightening.

∼ Maybe I'm leaving the forest — if I was in a forest to begin with.

The light grows more intense until I can't see anything. There's something warm and comforting about the enveloping white, like when my mom used to hold me, with her firm yet soft arms.

∼ My mom? What did she look like again?

∼ And her name, what is it?

∼ Why am I not with her right now?

∼ I would give anything for her to hold me one last time.

Grief suddenly invades me, creeping up my spine like lava from an erupting volcano and shaking my whole body.

« No child should ever be separated from their mother. For if one can truly die of loneliness, it does not come from the mere absence of company, no. It arises when her compassionate gaze no longer rests upon us, the eyes of the one who wipes away our tears, heals our wounds, whether on our knees or in our hearts, and whose smile drives away our fears and banishes our nightmares like the sun dispels the night. To be removed from that gaze which gives meaning to our existence — this is true solitude, the kind that kills. »

All of a sudden, I notice that my feet are no longer touching the ground. It's strange because I couldn't feel them until just a second ago, and now that they've stopped moving, I can finally confirm their existence.

I fall.

I don't need to see to know that I'm falling — I can feel the cool air caressing my skin. I don't know how long it's been since my legs stopped supporting me, nor how much further I have to fall, but I do not panic. If anything, I enjoy it. The fresh air soothes me and takes my mind off my mom. Moreover, this fall allows me to escape from whatever was chasing me.

∼ What was chasing me again? Was there even something behind my back?

It doesn't matter; I feel safe now, as if my body were drifting far, far away to a place where no one could ever find me.

Inevitably, just as every precipice has a bottom, every fall has an end.

The landing wasn't painful. I couldn't feel my limbs before the fall, and I feel them even less now. I can't tell if the ground is hard or soft, dry or wet. All I know is that it's there, just below me, and that I don't need to run anymore. So I relax and look around. I can vaguely make out the foot of the cliff from which I fell, as well as some grass and even small flowers growing in a shaft of light. I can't hear anything, assuming there's something to hear, and my vision begins to blur. Just before my eyelids close, plunging me into darkness, I see two feet pointing in my direction, a few meters away. Big feet in simple wooden sandals. Eventually, the darkness swallow me entirely and my consciousness evaporates.