Dehydration, on the other hand, was excruciating and brought its own delirium. My craving for water intensified by a new sip appearing whenever I wanted it most.
Bowls of cold mush and grits appeared from time to time. Unflavored, unsalted, no more than wet corn meal. My thoughts were reeling and unconnected, disjointed and tending toward terror. I was afraid of every new thing, every sound shattered the reality of what had gone before. Crickets and cicadas, sounds of the night elicited yelps and panting, some of which I observed from outside myself. Aches and cramps receded into themselves and became the status quo.
The ants and mosquitos were real, and incessant. I slapped my face and made my ears ring over and over in frustrated sleep until I was too numb to acknowledge the bites.
R
