The coffee is still hot, the glass melted. Vibrations of evidence everywhere. Are you ever going to tell me what we are? I'm having problems taking this apart. Why do these pieces look familiar like a puzzle in the dark? Why are our faces emitting cries of emotional stress even when we're sleeping? If anyone needs me I'll be walking the hill where you last remembered the position of each star, a map where they died. Time ticking on both sides like a child shaking a stone in a jar.