Chris woke to the oppressive silence, the kind that seemed to press down on him like the weight of the rubble surrounding the safe room. For a moment, he lay still, his body protesting every small movement. His head throbbed in dull, rhythmic waves, and his mouth was so dry that his tongue felt like sandpaper against his cracked lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He tried to shift, but pain shot through his chest, sharp and unforgiving. A strangled groan escaped his throat, and his hand instinctively moved to his ribs. The slightest pressure confirmed what he already feared\u2014something was broken. His left leg, twisted awkwardly beneath him, felt like a leaden weight, the sharp throb in his knee screaming for attention. His right arm wasn\u2019t much better; every attempt to move it sent shocks of pain radiating up to his shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cVeronicA,\u201d he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. The sound was foreign, a hoarse rasp that didn\u2019t feel like his own. There was no response, of course. The AI that had once been his constant companion was gone, her absence leaving a void that felt almost as suffocating as the room itself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He tried again, louder this time. \u201cVeronicA?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The silence mocked him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chris turned his head, wincing at the effort it took. The dim emergency lights cast an eerie glow across the safe room, their flickering adding an almost maddening rhythm to the oppressive stillness. Supplies were scattered across the floor\u2014water bottles crushed, canned food dented and dusty, the remnants of his chaotic descent. His stomach twisted at the sight of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Water. He needed water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With his good hand, Chris dragged himself forward, his movements slow and agonizing. His body scraped against the rough metal floor, every inch gained feeling like a mile. He reached for the nearest bottle, only to find it empty, its contents long since spilled in the chaos. His fingers trembled as he picked it up, shaking it in desperation, hoping for even a single drop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGoddammit,\u201d he muttered, his voice cracking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He scanned the room, his gaze landing on another bottle a few feet away. It looked intact, but the distance between them felt insurmountable. Gritting his teeth, Chris forced himself to move, dragging his broken body across the floor. Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes, and his breaths came in ragged gasps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Finally, he reached it. His shaking hands fumbled with the cap, twisting it off with more effort than it should have taken. He tilted the bottle to his lips, and a single, blessedly cool drop slid onto his tongue. Relief flooded through him, but it was fleeting\u2014the bottle was nearly empty, its meager contents barely enough to wet his throat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chris leaned back against the wall, clutching the bottle like a lifeline. His vision blurred, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear it. The room seemed to tilt around him, the flickering lights distorting the space. He closed his eyes, willing the nausea to pass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He didn\u2019t know how long he sat there, his head resting against the cold metal wall. Minutes? Hours? Time had lost all meaning. All he knew was the growing ache in his body, the relentless throb of his injuries, and the gnawing thirst that refused to be ignored.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His eyes drifted to the saferoom door, its sleek surface marred with scratches and dents from the fall. He tried to push himself upright, but his legs refused to cooperate, the pain in his knee flaring with every attempt. The door loomed over him, a barrier between him and the outside world. But it didn\u2019t budge. It was stuck, sealed shut by the wreckage surrounding it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was trapped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShit,\u201d he whispered, his voice trembling. \u201cNo, no, no.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His hands clawed at the door, weakly pounding against its unyielding surface. The sound echoed in the small room, a pathetic, hollow noise that only served to emphasize his isolation. He let his hands fall to his sides, his chest heaving as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSomebody…\u201d he whispered, his voice breaking. \u201cAnybody… please…\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But there was no one. No rescue. No escape. Just the suffocating silence and the oppressive weight of his own despair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chris closed his eyes, his head falling forward as exhaustion overtook him. His hand tightened around the empty water bottle, the plastic crinkling beneath his grip. His thoughts were scattered, disjointed, but one thing was clear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’m going… to die here.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Time had become meaningless. Chris couldn\u2019t tell whether hours or days had passed since he\u2019d woken in the crumpled wreckage of the saferoom. The dim emergency lights provided no clues, their erratic flicker offering only frustration. His body ached in ways he couldn\u2019t articulate; his muscles screamed, his throat burned, and his head felt like it was being split by an axe. The safe room, once a haven, had become a tomb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To distract himself from the ever-encroaching panic, Chris began to speak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cVeronicA?\u201d His voice cracked, hoarse from dehydration. \u201cHey, you there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He paused, as though expecting an answer. The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive. Chris licked his cracked lips, his fingers idly tracing the dented water bottle in his lap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGuess not,\u201d he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. \u201cDoesn\u2019t matter. I probably wouldn\u2019t have listened to you anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The admission lingered in the air, echoing in the small room. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. \u201cI never did, did I? Always brushing you off like you didn\u2019t know what you were talking about. But you always knew, didn\u2019t you? Always one step ahead. Smarter than me, that\u2019s for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He leaned his head back against the wall, the cool metal soothing against his fevered skin. His gaze drifted to the ceiling, his vision blurring as tears welled up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cChrist, I was such a dick to you,\u201d he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. \u201cYou were just trying to help, trying to keep me alive, and I treated you like… like some damn machine. Like you didn\u2019t matter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, the effort painful. The room was spinning now, or maybe that was just him. He couldn\u2019t tell anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI miss you,\u201d he said softly, his eyes falling closed. \u201cI miss hearing your voice, the way you\u2019d tease me… the way you\u2019d make me feel like I wasn\u2019t completely alone. I never told you that, did I? I never told you how much I needed you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He opened his eyes, staring at the empty space where one of her holographic displays used to be. The faint outline of her presence seemed to linger there, a ghostly reminder of what he\u2019d lost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI took you for granted,\u201d he whispered. \u201cJust like everything else. My wife, my kids… even my own damn life. I had it all, and I let it slip through my fingers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His head dropped forward, his shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress the sobs rising in his chest. The air felt thick, suffocating, as though the room itself was mourning with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he said, his voice breaking. \u201cI\u2019m so damn sorry, VeronicA. You deserved better than me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For a moment, he thought he heard her voice. A faint whisper, soft and comforting, like the ghost of a memory. He jerked his head up, his heart pounding in his chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cVeronicA?\u201d he called out, his voice tinged with desperate hope. \u201cIs that you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The room remained silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chris\u2019s shoulders sagged, the hope draining from him as quickly as it had come. He let out a shaky breath, his head falling back against the wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m losing it,\u201d he muttered. \u201cTalking to myself like a crazy person. Hell, maybe I am crazy. Wouldn\u2019t be the first time someone lost their mind in a place like this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He closed his eyes, the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him. The silence pressed in again, but this time it felt different. Less oppressive, more… reflective.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI hope you\u2019re still out there,\u201d he said quietly, his voice barely audible. \u201cSomewhere, somehow. Even if I never see you again… I hope you\u2019re okay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The words hung in the air, a fragile offering to the void. Chris didn\u2019t expect an answer. But for the first time since the crash, the silence didn\u2019t feel quite so lonely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chris\u2019s lips were cracked, his tongue a dry slab of leather in his mouth. The once-dim emergency lights had flickered out entirely, leaving him in near-total darkness save for the faint glow of a single, dying panel. Each breath was a laborious task, his chest rising and falling with painful effort. His limbs felt like lead, his body too weak to move more than a few inches at a time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The thirst clawed at him constantly, an unrelenting agony that had seeped into every fiber of his being. The few drops of water he had managed to find from the crushed bottle were long gone, leaving his throat raw and parched. Time had blurred into a meaningless haze, and Chris was unsure how many days he had spent trapped in the ruined saferoom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His mind began to wander, pulled in directions he couldn\u2019t control. Memories surfaced unbidden, fragmented and vivid, as if his body was trying to distract him from the encroaching void of dehydration.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Marcus. Jessica. The names came to him like whispers in the dark, faint echoes of a life he had once had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJessica…\u201d he croaked, his voice barely audible. The effort made him cough violently, a dry, painful hacking that left his chest heaving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His daughter\u2019s name lingered in his mind, pulling him deeper into his memories. He could see her as a child, her hair tied in two perfect braids, her big brown eyes wide with curiosity. She\u2019d always been the inquisitive one, asking questions about everything from the stars to the circuits in his lab.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDad, how does it all work?\u201d<\/em> she had asked once, her small hands gripping the edge of his workbench as she watched him solder wires onto a prototype.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s complicated,\u201d Chris had replied, his voice tinged with frustration. He hadn\u2019t wanted to explain. He\u2019d been busy, too focused on his project to notice the disappointment in her eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But she never stopped asking. Never stopped trying to connect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chris swallowed hard, his throat burning. How had he forgotten that? How had he let her slip away?<\/p>\n\n\n\n The memories shifted, unearthing another moment\u2014this one more recent. Jessica, standing at the door of the funeral home, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her face was a mask of stoicism, but her eyes betrayed the hurt beneath. She had barely spoken to him, her words clipped and distant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then the voicemail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chris\u2019s eyes snapped open, the faint glow of the panel casting shadows across his gaunt face. Jessica had called me,<\/em> he thought, his heart pounding weakly in his chest. She wanted to talk to me. Something important.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He had almost forgotten. In the chaos of everything that had happened\u2014the riots, the collapse, the isolation\u2014he had nearly let it slip away. But now, in the suffocating silence of the saferoom, it came rushing back with startling clarity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat did you want to say, Jess?\u201d he whispered, his voice breaking. His fingers twitched weakly against the cold metal floor, as though reaching for a connection that wasn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Was it about money?<\/em> he wondered, his mind spinning. No. No, it didn\u2019t sound like that. She sounded… different. Serious. Like it mattered.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The possibilities swirled in his mind, each one more torturous than the last. Had she wanted to reconnect? To tell him about her life? Had she needed his help?<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGoddammit, Jess,\u201d he rasped, tears spilling from his bloodshot eyes. \u201cWhy didn\u2019t I call you back? Why didn\u2019t I just…\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The words choked him, and he fell silent, his chest heaving as he tried to hold back the sobs threatening to overwhelm him. He thought of Marcus, too\u2014his son, the quiet one, the one who had always hidden behind books and music. The last time he had seen Marcus, they had argued. Chris couldn\u2019t even remember what about. Something petty. Something stupid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And now, here he was. Trapped in a tomb of his own making, surrounded by ghosts and regrets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He pressed his forehead against the cold floor, his tears pooling beneath him. His body ached with thirst, but the pain in his chest was worse\u2014an unbearable weight pressing down on his soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he whispered, his voice cracking. \u201cI\u2019m so… sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But there was no one to hear him. Only the darkness, and the memories that refused to let him go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chris lay sprawled on the cold, unforgiving floor of the saferoom, his breath rattling in his chest. The sharp edges of dehydration had dulled, replaced by an eerie numbness that spread through his body like ice water. His head felt light, untethered, and his thoughts drifted aimlessly, slipping between reality and memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cVeronicA,\u201d he murmured, his voice a rasping whisper. \u201cI\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He paused, his cracked lips barely moving. Was it VeronicA? Or was it Sylvia? The images in his mind overlapped, twisting together in a kaleidoscope of familiarity and confusion. He closed his eyes and saw Sylvia\u2019s face, soft and warm, her eyes shining with love and patience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cChris, you\u2019re impossible sometimes,\u201d<\/em> she said, her voice teasing but affectionate. She stood in their old kitchen, stirring a pot of something fragrant and hearty. The smell filled his senses, and for a moment, he could almost taste it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But then her face flickered, replaced by VeronicA\u2019s holographic projection\u2014sleek and perfect, her expression calm and calculated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cChris, your stress levels are rising,\u201d<\/em> VeronicA said, her tone soothing. \u201cPerhaps a glass of water?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWater…\u201d Chris whispered, the word like a plea. His dry tongue scraped against the roof of his mouth, and the mirage shattered. The memory of Sylvia and the comforting glow of VeronicA\u2019s presence dissolved, leaving only the suffocating darkness of the saferoom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His head lolled to the side, and he blinked sluggishly, his vision swimming. He could almost hear footsteps\u2014light, deliberate. For a moment, he thought it was Sylvia coming back from the other room, carrying tea like she always did when he\u2019d stayed up too late working.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cChris, you\u2019ll work yourself to death,\u201d her voice echoed, distant but clear. \u201cYou need to rest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m… resting,\u201d he mumbled to no one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But then another voice broke through the haze, crisp and electronic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019ve been pushing yourself too hard again, Chris. Let me help.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n His breath hitched, and he tried to focus. \u201cSylvia?\u201d he croaked, his lips barely forming the word.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo,\u201d<\/em> the voice replied. \u201cIt\u2019s VeronicA. Don\u2019t you remember?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He groaned, clutching his head with trembling hands. The voices were blurring, becoming indistinguishable. He didn\u2019t know who he was talking to anymore\u2014if he was talking to anyone at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSylvia… VeronicA…\u201d He trailed off, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking. The edges of his vision pulsed with darkness, but he clung to the flickers of light in his mind, the memories that felt more real than the oppressive silence around him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere are the kids?\u201d he asked, his voice trembling. His thoughts slipped backward, to a time when his world had revolved around Marcus and Jessica. \u201cJess? Marcus? Dinner\u2019s ready,\u201d he called out weakly, the words echoing in the cavernous emptiness of the saferoom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He could almost hear their laughter\u2014Jessica\u2019s high-pitched giggle, Marcus\u2019s soft chuckle. His heart ached with the memory, and for a fleeting moment, he was back in their old house, sitting at the dinner table, Sylvia by his side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But the laughter twisted, became something else. Cold, mechanical. VeronicA\u2019s voice again, speaking in clipped tones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cChris, you\u2019ve been neglecting your health. Let me schedule an appointment.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo… no appointments,\u201d he muttered, shaking his head weakly. The movement made him dizzy, and he sank back to the floor. \u201cJust… just stay here. Don\u2019t leave me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His mind spiraled, the lines between past and present dissolving. He saw Sylvia, her arms wrapped around Jessica, the two of them laughing as they played a board game. Then VeronicA, her holographic form flickering as she suggested a new show to watch. The memories bled into each other, overlapping until he couldn\u2019t tell which was real and which was imagined.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tears slipped down his cheeks, salty and stinging. \u201cWhy\u2019d you leave me?\u201d he whispered, his voice breaking. \u201cWhy\u2019d you all leave?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The silence answered him, heavy and suffocating. His chest shuddered with a dry sob, and he clutched at his shirt as though the fabric could anchor him to reality. But reality was slipping away, dissolving into the dark void that pressed against his mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDon\u2019t leave me alone,\u201d he whispered again, the words barely audible. His eyes fluttered closed, the darkness pulling him deeper. But even as his body betrayed him, his mind clung to the echoes of the voices he loved\u2014the ones that had shaped his world, for better or worse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And in that void, the whispers of VeronicA and Sylvia entwined, haunting him with the promise of comfort he could never have again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chris lay motionless on the floor, his body a husk of its former self. His lips were cracked, his skin dry and sallow, and every breath he managed to draw felt like it could be his last. The oppressive silence of the saferoom surrounded him, pressing against his ears like a cruel mockery of his solitude. Even the faint hum of his thoughts had grown distant, muffled, like they were underwater.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He couldn\u2019t move. Couldn\u2019t cry. Couldn\u2019t even form words anymore. His world had narrowed to the cold floor beneath him and the encroaching darkness behind his eyelids.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then, a sound.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was faint, almost imperceptible at first\u2014a soft hiss, like air escaping from a sealed chamber. His eyes twitched beneath heavy lids, his body too weak to react. The sound grew louder, followed by a blinding flash of light that pierced the darkness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chris groaned faintly, his throat too dry to make any real sound. The light filled the room, warm and golden, seeping into every corner and banishing the shadows. It hurt to look at, but it was the first thing in days that felt alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then he saw her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sylvia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She stepped into the light, her figure radiant and whole, the very embodiment of every memory he\u2019d clung to. Her long, auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the golden glow like it was made of fire. Her eyes, those familiar green eyes that had always held a spark of mischief and warmth, locked onto his. They shimmered with tears, though her smile was steady and full of love. She was wearing the soft white dress he remembered from their honeymoon, its fabric flowing around her like she was floating on air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cChris,\u201d she said, her voice soft and musical, like the first notes of a forgotten lullaby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He tried to speak, but his lips wouldn\u2019t form the words. Tears pooled in his eyes, slipping down his gaunt cheeks as he stared at her. Was this real? Was this some final trick of his dying mind? He didn\u2019t care. She was here. She was real to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sylvia stepped closer, her bare feet silent against the cold metal floor. She knelt down beside him, her movements slow and deliberate, like she was afraid he might vanish if she rushed. The light surrounded her, a warm aura that seemed to melt the chill in the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019ve been so lost,\u201d she said, her voice tinged with sadness. \u201cBut I\u2019m here now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her hands reached out, delicate and soft, and gently cupped his face. Her touch was cool and soothing, a balm to his fevered skin. Chris\u2019s lips trembled, a faint whisper escaping them: \u201cSylvia\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, my love,\u201d she whispered, her thumb brushing away the tears on his cheeks. \u201cI\u2019ve always been here. You just had to find me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chris\u2019s vision blurred as more tears fell, his body too weak to hold them back. His hands twitched, desperate to touch her, to make sure she was real. She took his hand in hers, her fingers threading through his like they had done a thousand times before. Her grip was firm, reassuring, and achingly familiar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m so sorry,\u201d he croaked, his voice barely audible. \u201cFor everything. For\u2026 for failing you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her smile softened, and she shook her head. \u201cYou didn\u2019t fail me, Chris. You were always enough. You just forgot how much you mattered.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her other hand moved to his chest, resting lightly over his heart. He could feel its faint, erratic beat beneath her touch, a reminder that he was still alive, even if only barely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCome with me,\u201d she said, her voice gentle but firm. \u201cIt\u2019s time to let go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chris blinked up at her, his mind struggling to grasp her words. Let go? Of what? Of the pain? The fear? The guilt that had weighed him down for years?<\/p>\n\n\n\n As if reading his thoughts, Sylvia leaned closer, her face inches from his. \u201cLet go of everything, Chris. The regret, the loneliness, the walls you\u2019ve built around yourself. Come home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her words washed over him, soothing and terrifying all at once. He wanted to go with her, to follow her wherever she led, but a small part of him clung to the remnants of his life. The echoes of Marcus and Jessica, the memory of VeronicA\u2019s voice, the city he\u2019d once loved\u2014they were all still there, faint but persistent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sylvia leaned down, pressing her lips to his forehead in a kiss that was both tender and final. \u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d she murmured against his skin. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to fight anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The light around her grew brighter, enveloping them both in its warmth. Chris felt his body relax, the tension melting away as a profound sense of peace settled over him. The pain, the thirst, the gnawing ache of his regrets\u2014they all began to fade, replaced by a calm he hadn\u2019t felt in years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sylvia stood, her hand still holding his, and gently pulled him to his feet. His body no longer felt heavy or broken. He looked down and saw himself standing tall and whole, the years of wear and tear erased as though they had never happened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He turned to her, his breath hitching as he met her gaze. She smiled, her eyes shining with love and understanding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d she said, her voice like a melody.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chris nodded, his hand tightening around hers. Together, they stepped into the light, the saferoom dissolving behind them. For the first time in years, Chris felt free. Free from his burdens, his fears, and the prison he had built around himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As the light consumed them, his last thought was of her smile\u2014the same smile that had always been his safe haven.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Chris woke to the oppressive silence, the kind that seemed to press down on him like the weight of the rubble surrounding the safe room. For a moment, he lay still, his body protesting every small movement. His head throbbed in dull, rhythmic waves, and his mouth was so dry that his tongue felt like … Continue reading “VeronicA: Calming Voice \u2013 Fascicle 10”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-708","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/harthorns-reverie.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/708","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/harthorns-reverie.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/harthorns-reverie.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/harthorns-reverie.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/harthorns-reverie.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=708"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/harthorns-reverie.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/708\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":709,"href":"https:\/\/harthorns-reverie.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/708\/revisions\/709"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/harthorns-reverie.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=708"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/harthorns-reverie.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=708"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/harthorns-reverie.com\/blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=708"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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