you enter a blind rage when, after yet another dew, your throat is still dry and your thirst still claws at your stomach. you down more and more dew until you reach the very last... your hand trembles as you reach further back into the fridge... but your hand never reaches the can. a dark shadow crosses your vision and when you look into the fridge once again, the familiar off-white plastic is gone. instead a gaping hole greets your unbelieving stare. in a state of shock, you give yourself to the void.

onward