Chapter Eight
Clouds. Cotton wool. A comfortable numbness. That pleasant warm swirling sensation, like you’re back in the womb. Such a wonderful feeling. Then the killjoy drudges of reality have to ruin it by making their presence felt. Voices in the distance. Cold, hard floor pressed against your skin. The incessant buzzing of Beelzebub’s minions as they explore exposed flesh to ascertain whether or not you are dead and edible.
Then your own body aligns itself with the opposition. Head starts to pound as blood surges back into oxygen-starved brain cells. Arm finally complains that it can’t bear the full weight of your body for more than a couple of hours. Face realizes that the carpet it’s making love to doesn’t smell so good from such a close proximity. And then the final betrayal – th
