Too Good for this World

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After a long, long talk with her mum that went on into the night, Imogen was finally alone. She’d told her mum that she knew it was time to move on now, but as soon as the bedroom door was closed she picked up Jonny’s picture again and hugged it to her. ‘Talk to me again, Jonny,’ she whispered, ‘talk to me, please.’

She made sure her laptop was on and tried again. ‘Please Jonny. If you ever cared about me, talk to me. Talk to me now.’

She waited a long time, but there was nothing. It was hopeless. She was about to give up and go to bed, but then, finally, the screen changed. Her heart began to race. The message appeared in stages rather than all at once, and as each word appeared Imogen held her breath, barely believing what she saw.

I’m not dead, Gennie. I’m not “alive” but I’m not dead. I still love you, and I still remember you.

Gennie took great gulps of air. Her heart was pounding and her eyes prickled with tears, which soon began to spill down her cheeks. Where are you? she asked him.

I’m in a new place. A different place. We all are.

What place? She asked. Her tears were heavy now, but silent, dropping down to the desk unheeded. She wiped her eyes so that she could see the screen, rubbing her tears away impatiently. She began to feel scared that Jonny had gone. More agonising seconds passed, and in her head she said, ‘please reply, please reply, please reply.’ She began to give up hope. He was gone. He must have gone- it was taking too long. She almost cried out in frustration, but then suddenly there it was, clear as day. Four words. Four bizarre, incomprehensible words. She stared at them for a long time, trying to understand, trying to think over things he’d previously said. Nothing fitted. Nothing could explain them. She gazed at the sentence, forcing herself to think, but she couldn’t. She simply had no idea what it meant.

I’m in the network.

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