It's the day before the solstice. The moon is nearly full. It's two hours until sunset. He's laying in bed staring at his rectangles, like he's been stuck doing for the past several days.
It's time. Get up.
Nothing happens.
The stars are calling. It's time to go. We have an appointment to keep.
He stares at his rectangle.
That's not going to work. Let me get him moving.
He suddenly notices an intrusive need to urinate and stands up. He takes care of business, then loses awareness and feels puppeted around on strings.
The voices in his head are demanding that he take mushrooms, so he complies, swallowing 2g.
It's time to prepare for the ritual, so he wanders through the house collecting the ritual objects that call to him. Jeans and boots and blue shirt. Red robe. Multicolor flashlights. CBD and THC vapes. Slightly crumpled folded special papers. Emotional Support Knife. Two plush dinosaurs, a plush octopus, and a tiny plush cat. Green laser. Piece of obsidian. Headphones. Cell phone. Both necklaces.
It's time to go. That's everything. It's time to go.
He silently waves to their partner as he walks past her bedroom on his way out of the house.
Private
to
Public