Russell could breathe. Okay. That was a good sign.
He could open one eye. It was mostly dark except for streetlights reflecting off the ceiling. He placed his little imaginary sailboat among the shadow-shaped ceiling continents and began wending it around to distant shores, shadows with mysterious ports of call. There’d be tropical dark women, towering men, and exotic foods. Leaving the beams of light rising from the dark streets, he sailed toward the great round continent of the ceiling lamp.
Just as his boat arrived, the light blazed on and drove twin balls of fire down his optic nerves and into his brain. Which then exploded as if the sun had gone nova within the confines of his skull.
He dragged a pillow over his face and cursed roundly. The afterimage on his retina included an outl
