. . .

He writhes away from dead Mr. Loggins. He huddles there, taking desperate gasps of breath. Finally his thoughts clear enough to know roughly where he is.

He staggers up. He rests his weight for a moment on a chair. The chair falls over. He falls over. His eye-bone feels broken. He remembers after a moment that you cannot actually break your eye-bones, and then that there aren’t any. He feels the bone around his eye. It is OK. Maybe it is a little bit sore.

He does not know why Mr. Loggins is dead.

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