A man lies in his bed in a room with no door. He waits
hoping for a presence, something, anything to enter. After
spending half his life searching, he still felt as blank as
the ceiling at which he stared. He is alive, but feels
absolutely nothing. So you see. When he was 6 he believed
that the moon overhead followed him. By 9 he had deciphed
the illusion, trading magic for fact, no trade backs. So
this is what it's like to be an adult. If he only knew now
what he knew then.
Lying sideways atop crumpled sheets and no covers, he
decides to dream. Dream up a new self, for himself.