Regret in Search

The screen glows cold in the dark,

fingers typing fevered questions

into a well of endless answers.

Cough.

Tired.

What does that mean?

Page after page—

cancer, pneumonia, the worst.

Words piling up, each worse

than the last, pressing down

like the weight of a night that won’t end.

Heart sinks.

The light flickers.

I close the browser,

but the shadows stay,

a creeping crawl beneath skin

I thought I knew.