The last part of half waking I was exploring space, as space, and as I went deeper into it I saw that between smaller and smaller increments of space was more space.
Before that I had been avoiding the disease in the closet, where many others were crammed and sure to die. I lived with four others in a desk. It was genocide and we were hiding.
Dad made me an almond milk latte, saving one of the shots for a macchiato, which is how I enjoy my coffee at dad’s house. I was looking for my sunglasses and dad said he had made me room on the sunglasses-rack over some hours of endless tasks.
“All the tasks will be done at some point.” I said. “They will be when I’m dead.” Replied dad.
I wore my back-up-glove-box-shades and as I drove I worked on relaxing my jaw. The back of my head was leaking invisible golden fluid into my perception.