Walking through the nothing, she considered that a faint presence had brushed her cheek. Unseen and unfelt, she thought the sensation just a memory; an electrochemical register she had long forgotten. She was now a formless entity, a collection of sensory experiences fading fast. Eroded by the tidal surge of the happened, the was, is and never would be. Infinite possibility did not ask quarter, nor would it give any. Each grain of potential consciousness like sand through a child's hand. A single expensive tear. She eased her way with incalculable ardour through the incessant great white emptiness, trying not to think about how thinking further stole from her precious substance. If she could have afforded the reflection, she may have enjoyed a last brittle laugh at this clever cruelty nature saw fit to impose on her.