Nil left the diner in Pahrump as nonchalantly as he could. He was already feeling the tell-tale tingle, something akin to 3 shots of whiskey on an empty stomach, as he rounded the back corner of the diner. He knew he’d lost this round before he’d even started playing.
As he found the nearest streelight, bathed in the beloved sodium glow, he made his way toward it. In his mind he knew that the other shoe would drop any second. He took another pull from his cigarette.
Then the world became an exquisite madness of the brightest colors and shapes, folding in on itself like fractals of terrible giddiness, pounding into his brain like something ancient and needy, yet nurturing.
Then the entire spectacle began to spin around, hurling planets to & fro, until everything swirled inward and finally bled itself into the deepest, smoothest black.
When Nil woke up again it was snowing.
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