They are quite real to us these lines coloured in sometimes, they've been with us since we first met them, and they seem 'real'. Comics, graphic novels, the funny pages. -- Knitnan
They were just shapes on a page. They should very clearly not be so impactful. They were the written word. They were pictorial representations of impossible things. They were imagination. They weren't real. And yet...
There he was. Hiding away from the world because these particular shapes on a page had reached a spot that regular, everyday people could not make an impact on. These unreal things, these abstractions of reality, had hit his hidden heart. They had found the chink in his armour and now he was weeping from an entirely fabricated pain.
He tried to choke it down. Squash it. Tell himself over and over again that it wasn't real. It was a series of abstractions. Symbols that had no meaning but that which was assigned to it. That he could close the pages and freeze the action his brain had supplied. And all his efforts failed.
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