#p: in the cold light of day we're a flame in the wind

[isaac--lahey]

[In the cold light of day we're a flame in the wind]

Everything was so.....bright.

Not only bright but so  o v e r w h e l m i n g. What day was it - was it even the same year? The simple chirp of a bird or the rustle of the breeze seemed like sensory overload. After a seemingly endless amount of darkness even the simplicities of life seemed to much to handle. And speaking of life...he was alive again? He could feel, touch, see, smell, hear....hell, he could breathe again. How could he have forgotten what it was like to breathe? To feel alive.

But then there was too much. Too much - to go from nothing and then everything at once was just too much. He needed to find somewhere - someone to help him. And this is how he found himself stumbling to a familiar front door, barely keeping his feet beneath him as voices rang through his head and the lights blinded him. Help..he needed...help...