It would be so easy to slip away unseen. To be forgotten would imply that she was ever remembered. Gone like the morning fog or that elusive lightning bug leaving people wondering if you ever really existed.
Her absence left no mark on the world around her. No empty cog in the machine of life. The world kept turning, the birds keep singing. The sky was an angry blue with white cotton ball clouds when she disappeared into the darkness of the abyss. Silently she slept in the darkness waiting to be reborn,