The Nero's Death

We woke up in the body that moments ago had been the Nero's, his bewildered psyche nearly with us flailed once. We caught a flash of old memories hooked to random synapses as they unschooled from the amygdala. The distaste he'd nurtured as the boy grew into someone the Nero could not, would not recognize. Out of our amalgam of desires rose that very young hunger, a child's lifted palms, a desperation to be known.