I discovered this in my drafts on Facebook and, remembering what this is for (it was a draft of a story that I never finished), I've decided to upload this you all to read. Enjoy!
It was the ghostly fingers made him aware that what he was seeing wasn't real. They felt real, but they felt as if they were made of plastic, not true human fingers. And he kept hearing voices, but they were always in the background, as if he was in one room and the voices were in another.
But they didn't matter.
He was stuck in, what he was sure was, a memory. The last memory he had before it happened. The last true memory. Something solid for his mind to hold onto.
She was there. Beautiful as always. Her blond hair tied back in an odd ponytail, her pale eyes watching him, her lips curve into a gentle smile.
“I love you,” she whispered.
And that was when the memory ended.