Chapter 22: Dead Heading

And for a long time, and as he woke up; Rowland felt as though he was getting tired of this state of purgatory with the added benefit of an ocean he could never look passed behind palm trees, in limbo's little sandbox city he ran the race of mice as he felt that hollow feeling better described as being a weed in the ocean, simply letting the waves wish-wash his seemingly weak and worn form to whichever direction it pleased.

So he decided to stand up or rather sit up, then stand up, then quickly sat down again due to the head rush, and then up again.

He felt like a new born baby, he could feel everything; like his bone under his skin as some of his joints ached, or how his recovered brain sloshed around loosely behind his tired eyes with no real pain. Kind of like how one would feel after having a full body cast removed; as if in an instant, he could just crumble into pieces like a well baked cookie: