I woke up to the same light, its bulb now flickering. Sweat stuck to my shirt and the couch’s cushion was damp with my outline. I grabbed the glass and filled it until the dark liquor spilled off the rim. The fire consumed my throat, my tongue swishing it between teeth and taste buds. As the buzz continued, the sounds of the ocean returned. Its beating was heavier than before. Windchimes jingled outside, signaling the approach of a storm.
With no ease, I stood from the couch and walked to the kitchen. Shadowy outlines of swirls were embedded into the floor like the memory of flames. Doctor Grau’s calipers were still in the sink. The dark, dried blood mixed with brown and black rust. Outside, night cascaded the dead grass. The lighthouse’s eye shined on me briefly. I squinted as a throbbin
