50 Doors

Before I could think, move, bat an eyelash or otherwise act, she pressed against me and effortlessly moved me back to the crossing. None to soon either, for the limb fell crashing through the floor, which stood not a chance, leaving a gaping hole in the corridor without so much as a path on either side. Instantly, with the sound of hoof beats she was gone at breakneck speed.

Alone once more, I turned towards the portal as the last glimpse of it disappeared. I collapsed in tears, for with the disappearance of the portal so had gone my memories. I was left with the memory of remembering, but not the memories themselves. The loss was more than I could bear, made worse this time than the first by the remembrance of remembering and the dual loss of a way home.

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