The door cracks open with a long groan as I pour myself into the house like the uncooked contents of an egg. The ubiquitous darkness of the fuzzy night engulfs me with every passing second. The silence renders itself upon my eyelids in its sluggish ways, leaving a trail of thick heavy slime on the fractures of my cemented eyes. The ghost of the ticking clock whispers in my ears from another world. Unable to control the lethargy, I watch my dull fingers unwrap themselves from the last grip on my bag. Thud. The clicking of the clock continues, but with each steady pulse the hefty velvet curtains grow heavier until the timid chink of light can no longer enter my pupils. A flaky warmness stretches across my body with its greedy veins. My last bit of consciousness sighs disapprovingly as my possessed body amalgamates with the cold, foreign and harsh floor tiles. “NO. Do not stay here. Go upstairs,” I scold at myself. Alas, the fat apathy extinguishes my surviving fragments of logic. I lie there, motionless, as every one of my cells melts away to slumber like the struggling chunk of butter on a warm, sizzling toast.