Friday, June 17th, 2072 – Rex GlassnerQueenie's mumblings had stopped. Her breathing was shallow. I feared she would never wake up.The tent reeked o... sweat and sickness after two days, a foul miasma that turned my stomach. Reina bathed Queenie's temple, my sister's face filled with despair. I felt that same yawning darkness inside me. My beautiful wife was never waking up.It wasn't fair. It was just a stupid scratch. I've cut myself worse and been fine.The tent was so small, the canvas pressing. The other girl, the thinner one, is maybe in a backyard. Tan line shows how her bikini fits. Wet hair across her collarbone. Tits are smaller than the other’s, more pronounced. Rectangle of hair. Maybe she’s latina, like me. Sorta’ looks like me, anyway, her face. Maybe she took the hose out of the water barrel; you just see the side of it. This picture looks more like a scan of a print.The first nude’s boob looks soft; the second one’s, not. The second nude has the darker nipples, more out.I. More

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