If I leave the window open, I invariably experience abdominal pain. Perhaps it's the dreams...the dreams of them poking around in my guts with cold sterile tools, searching, anolyzing, communicating amongst themselves as chittering rats do. Their glossy black eyes and pale complexions, their slender limbs, the lights flashing through my window painting anemic silhouettes on my bedroom walls.
So I quit leaving the window open.
So I quit leaving the window open.
