The last part of half waking I was exploring space, as space, and as I went deeper into it I saw that between smaller and smaller increments of space was more space.
Before that I had been avoiding the disease in the closet, where many others were crammed and sure to die. I lived with four others in a desk. It was the holocaust and we were hiding.
Dad made me an almond milk latte, saving one of the shots for a macchiato, which is how I enjoy my coffee in the morning. I was looking for my sunglasses and dad said he had made me room on the sunglasses-rack over some hours of endless tasks.
“All the tasks will be done at some point.” “They will be when I’m dead.”
I wore my back-up-glove-box-shades and as I drove I worked on relaxing my jaw. The mid-back of my head was leaking its invisible golden fluid into my perception.
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