“No it’s not,” I snapped.
We were trekking through my mind, for crying out loud.
It was not empty.
“The transporter’s faulty,” I grumbled. “It probably sent us into your mind instead. That’s always been empty.”
Abby threw her hands up in the air. “Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad kind of empty. It has a nice ambience to it. Peaceful, like.”
I waved her words away. I wasn’t accepting this emptiness. All my thoughts were hidden away somewhere, and we had to find them. Because until we uncovered that one thought, the thought I’d blocked all these years, justice could never be served.
(Image courtesy of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo)
Written for Sue Vincent’s Writephoto Prompt: Empty