She lowered her self down in the cold cold water, and she thought that in these late hours when surely he, so far away, slept--him, asleep, and this meant that the world at the moment was without him. With only his dim mouthless spirit to crawl in sublimity through banks and breaks of clouds. No thin fingers, no thick freckles--no phosphorus mutter. No where in the solar system.

While he was so entirely gone from existence, the world without him cluttered and dim and fisheye-lensed.

The time passes slowly, she thought, like old music, the time passing when you are suspended in the water just where the sky splits with the prism, your limbs pale and irremediably cracked--

She tugged the velvet from her crystal ball and there he was, arm fallen in terrible grace from the edge of the bed, terrible as an army with banners. Thoughtless spiders strolling into the open mouth of that husk like it was a dive bar, microscopic bits of his skin flaking rapidly onto the pillow.

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