The woman extended her lithe hand and gently clasped his swollen palm. She held it against her cheek. 'We're all dying,' she said, 'some more slowly than others.' 'The next person you see', I displayed to the man in a frenzy of swirling green neon letters, 'tell them that I asked you to remember and relay this episode so that you at least have a shared experience. I know how lonely it can get.'
Welcome. Anonymous Author holds a mirror to the face of humanity, asking what it really means to be human,
and in doing so blurs the line between what is good and bad writing.
