Journalism          Photography          Metallurgy

<sup>"I don't remember how I ended up in your bathtub, actually. It’s as if that's all that's ever been, except that I know better. I feel that there was much more to my life before that. And obviously there was, I mean, I didn't just suddenly start to exist in the middle of a bubble bath, and I obviously crave cigarettes for a reason! I just don't remember why, or how it came to be that I was in your house," She paused, swinging her feet a little bit, heels banging against the cabinet door beneath her. "I remember really weird things. For example, I feel that the disorientation I’m experiencing is to be expected, like it’s nothing out of the ordinary: normal. But at the same time, it feels as if I’ve just woken up out of a very lucid dream. My other memories, the few I can recall, at least, are fading fast, replaced by new ones that don't make any sense, and then the new ones are changed out for even newer ones. It’s like my brain's stuck in overdrive, trying to recover a lot of lost information at once, and it's really confused about where to file and store it all."

Then, the lights in the house dimmed for a moment. I could hear the pitch of the central air conditioning unit winding up. Noises like that you only notice when they change, or when they start or stop altogether; they're part of the background music of everyday life. The refrigerator, old beast that she was, clicked and chugged, sputtering out a few cubes of ice into the freezer box, capable of only a small percentage of her previous levels of production in her old age. 

She distracted me from my observations of the nuances of my home by executing a fall from the counter top then, unconscious. I barely caught her, only just in time to slow her fall, right before her head hit the floor.</sup>

FLASH! What happens when the sky falls?