He could only remember seven seconds of the dream. He was aware of private parties run by oligarchs.
The red velvet inside of the guitar case reminded her of kidneys.
Unable to hold back the hordes he dug a hole and buried himself in gravel and sand. He breathed through a straw for a week.
He couldn’t remember if Henry Kissinger was dead or alive.
The cracks in the floor appeared over night. Dried from the sun. Underground stuff was happening. It was scientific.
On the late night news the newsreader advised of a disaster but there was meat between his teeth.