Kiru felt as if he had been out for years.
Maybe he had. The tedious, empty slumber must have lasted a lifetime. Passerby dreams infesting his mind like the incessant flood of pedestrians on a city street. This had not been sleep, not really. It was insomnia if nothing else; a restless purgatory in sleep’s guise. And yet, as Kiru sat up, limbs weak, he felt he was not done dreaming.
A blue-grey British Shorthair perched in front of him, staring as patiently and intently as only a cat can. Kiru had a feeling he knew the animal from somewhere.
“You’re up,” the cat appeared to insinuate. “I took the opportunity to make myself at home.”
The space they inhabited registered first as nothing but clouds populating a deep, blue sky. Then little details sunk in. Subtle edges. Areas slightly brighter than others. Differences in shape and angle, where the background distorted as if seen through a glass of water. The land and sea far below, grey and