Remains
When I finally found the will to move, I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I was never easy on the eyes to begin with, but now I looked almost feral: red, puffy eyes, sunken cheeks, wiry stubble cracking through dry, leathery skin. The last time I had looked so bad had been at the height (depth?) of my drinking days. I needed to get my act together. Fast.
Oddly enough, my nerves calmed halfway through my second pot of coffee. My skin buzzed with caffeine, but the unnatural chill was finally beginning to dissipate. Outside, the city moved as it did every day, oblivious to the impossible truth I was still having difficulty admitting to myself:
Magic was real. Not just in the abstract. Real. Physical. Alive.
I was first introduced to “The Low World” decades before while
