Calculating Volume

 she opened the box. unsure what to do with what it contained. all the fickle whims of absent gods. and the thinning leashes on which their sheep are kept. 

time grinned. its fangs well worn, but still sharp enough to break the skin. 

she gave her consent. to what remained of humanity's war. eager to witness its downfall. 

time limped forward. injured, yet determined. 

she collected the pieces that were left. carefully arranging each one inside the box. 

bits of candy mixed with bone and blood. and the unfinished math of fumbling promises. 

she opened the box. unsure of what it held. 

other than. the charismatic lies of strangers. and the crowded intersections that distort our path.  

she calculated the space. both the empty and the taken.  worn by the void. she conceded. 

the box held nothing. and everything.