“I set fire to the blanket, because it was made of snow. But it did not burn, just sublimated.”
“And the zombie fire beneath the snow continues to flare?”
“Yes. Suppressed rage is often labelled insanity.”
“We are here to help you sublimate the rage,” the doctor has his most congenial expression on. Idly, I wonder if there’s a smouldering fire beneath it.
I think of my soul getting sublimated into ether, leaving the body behind, but the snow is returning, again leaving me in a fog.