You're starting to pull together. You're beginning to piece the thoughts together. You're beginning to weigh the brick against the feather. Your thoughts are coming in flashes, photographs of moments. You freeze frame.

You were at a company party. That's right. An event in the courtyard of a resort. You were being honored for tuning in a report on loss prevention. You were... standing next to a pillar. Tile and brick. Flash. Flash. Tile and brick. You decided to stick your neck out. You had a glass of punch. You had a handful of excuses. You always do.

FLASH! FLASH! You were busy holding back your words and holding your cup when someone was talking to you. You were talking to someone. You were answering them. You were asking questions. flash. flash..

The company's former janitor was there... Morris. Who invited him? You abducted you and made you think these things? You held on for dear life. Flash. FLASH. You were talking with him next to a stone bench and a potted cactus. Someone had put a cigarette butt out in the planter. How tacky. FLASH. flash. What? Someone spiked your drink? What? FLASH.

Disconnect the dots. No Morris, I didn't mean you. Blurry and reserved. Swirling. Morris is the mailman. Your house is on his route. He used to be the janitor for your company. Now he's keeping you company. You're tied to milk crates in a warehouse. He is shining a flashlight in your face. Morris. The mailman. Your company's former janitor. You were talking with him. He approached you in the courtyard. You were surprise. You shifted your eyes. You rolled the dice. You talked to him. You set your punch glass down on a wrought iron picnic table. A circular one. Circular. Circle you are. You're starting to remember. You're starting to understand.

He's asking you questions, but the words aren't making sense to you yet. The thoughts are still

FLASH. flash.

The thoughts are still coming in flashes. Frame by frame. Low frame rate. The audio isn't matching up to the visuals. Mumble mumble syllable trouble. What did he put in your drink? That's right that's what it is!!!


You're woozy, swooning. Fainting faint of heart and weak of mind. Morris is holding an immonia inhaler under your nose. He's asking questions. He wants something. He wants to ask you something.

hallucinogenic circumstance not by choice but by chance the dance with abduction in pictures of reflection of the last hour which was a lifetime of abstraction and image, you imagine you made this all up. this is not life. this is a cartoon.

not so fast.