Prompt: Coming Undone | Word Count: 1200 | Genre: Fiction
Warning: Drugs
He was alone, but he was not lonely. The darkness surrounded him, stretching infinitely in all directions. He floated, arms extended, feet turned out, long hair fanned behind him, undulating softly as he breathed.
A thought floated across his idle mind, an image of a table, round and worn smooth by years of hands passing over it, and he could see it. He wanted to be standing next to it, and he was, in the space between blinks. Voices garbled in the back of his mind, tickling him with memory. He focused, his brow knitting together, and pulled them into focus. Yes. There it was. The table was… from a childhood Christmas. It was covered in garland and homecooked mashed potatoes that he had spent all day peeling with his father, and though his hands were raw from the hot water and cut from the peeler, he didn’t care.

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