#mupppppppp

“Go home, Peter.” I didn't look at him. I couldn't.

I whisked away into the hall, into the cold, into my car, like flash scenes when an audience doesn't have the attention span to sit through the minute details; I couldn't comprehend them as I lived them.

I burst through my door around 12:38 ante meridian. It took me about fifteen minutes to crawl into bed with my eyes wide open. I did not sleep except for the kind in which one hears and comprehends everything around him in the night but his body is incapable of motion.

At 4:30 ante meridian, I awoke. I still was not thinking in words, only pictures.