.

It's five o'clock and the sunlight filters through onto my bleeding stomach.
I'm thinking of all the swear words that I know in blinding succession.
My body is resisting and the air is crisp and everything is going to keep on trying.

It's five thirty and the sun has slipped behind a cloud but the bleeding has stopped.
I'm thinking of Hell and Heaven and Agreements with slow, torpid thoughts.
My body is still and the air is slowly changing and everything is falling by the wayside by trying.

It's six. The sun is gone. The angry red marks across my belly are slightly raised.
I'm thinking that there is still so very much to do but it sears painfully across my eyes.
My body is itching and the air is heady with smoke and everything isn't moving.

It's six-thirty. There's a pale white light. I can't make out the marks on my stomach.
I'm reading somebody else's infinite, somebody else's memories, and they twist to fit mine.
My body is twitching signals to my fingers, the air is dim and dark, and everything is here.