Bubbles
Are often used to describe things that are fragile and easily broken.
They’re just a byproduct of liquid being stirred and splashed, their existence or nonexistence doesn’t matter, they’re even more short-lived than mayflies, even more illusory than mirages.
Yet, deep within the crimson tide of blood, a cluster of bubbles suddenly gained its own consciousness.
It didn’t know where it came from or where it was going, but it knew it was different, because it had something it had to do, someone it had to help.
This tiny bit of self-awareness drove it to swim through the...
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