Everything. All the time. People coming, going, staying, leaving. Dogs barking. He didn’t have any dogs. “Are those my lips?”
Maybe it was the drugs. Had he taken drugs today? Maybe this was tomorrow. John curled into a tight ball, imprisoned by the clutter of images he could not escape.
Another story from the vault! This one was inspired by the picture. It’s original title was longer—”Madness Takes Its Toll.” I like the shorter title better.