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No way. You are not here. This is not happening.

She hates you. She thinks you're a stupid cunt.

Your attention span buckles and cracks under the strain.

The real question is: Can you write poetry anywhere?

It hurts because it's true.

Heart-in-throat, crumpled knees against cold linoleum. A deafening pulse inside the skull. Oblivion oozes through the doorframe.

What have you done, Hershel?

Your own words in someone else's mouth. Deeply upsetting.

You're not equipped to deal with this kind of blow. There's no controlling how this makes you feel.

La la la. What's the old man on about? You can't hear anything.

You brought that one on yourself.

This is horrible. This just makes you want drugs even more.

All systems go down. A brief but total outage.

15 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual