Roy crashed to the floor.

Opening his eyes, sensation and visual data came back to Roy in a trickle. First it was his view of the ceiling above. Then it was registering the dry waves of pre-heat from the Roll Top styled Oven he’d been laid out along permeating his pocketless morning pants on his left side, followed by the unforgiving digging of the floor surface through the meat and into the bones of his heels, legs, back and what phrenologists of Victorian-antiquity would have referred to as his ‘Inhabitiveness,’ ‘Continuity,’ and –when he’d list his head to and fro– both sides of his ‘Friendship,’ depending on which Phenology chart one referred, naturally. He didn’t know how long he had been where he was or even how he gotten there, but upon opening...

Please subscribe to keep reading.