I like things to slowly creep in. It was slow. The sense of stasis. The joyous morning changed as the sun got brighter. I felt dizzy, but the dizziness was not a whirling dervish. It was like the drone of bees.
Bees remember faces, I read somewhere. If dizziness is a bee it will remember. I hope it ceases to like me and wants to forget. It has been a few hours now and it has settled down but not out of my system. I can feel the after-effects.
Words are rumbling in my head. Rambling. Voice recognition. Afia. Comments. Replies. Pause. For the bees.
White on white looks pale yellow beneath sodium lights.
Change creeps in slowly. Wait for me. The bees will leave. I will sting them.