Terrible dream last night. Vivid. In my dream, I was thirsty, so I went to the kitchen. Coming back, I passed Bob's room.
Bob stood in the doorway. His face looked like an overripe plum. Skin flaked underneath his left eye. Around his neck, the leather belt dug into flesh, broken where it had hung from the ceiling. He clutched his specimen in his right hand, squeezing it to some rhythm only he could hear.
He asked me if I liked dinosaurs. I said I did. He asked me if I knew what had happened to them. I told him they'd been killed by a meteorite. He said not here. Not in The Sick Land. If only I'd go deeper. I stared at him for a while then went back to my bedroom.
I didn't sleep.