Knock-knock. “Who’s there?” Ian said, jumping out of his inner thoughts as he was finished changing into some sleepwear and fresh from the shower. The door swung open to reveal Patrick with a backpack and a small bag of groceries. “Sleepover?” he asked gently.
Push yourself off a cliff and watch no wings sprout, burn your baby blanket, swallow a sheet of A5 notebook paper. It won’t help but the illusion suffices for what we think we want. What else can you do, in these cobblestone walls?