FicWad

He's started to count seasons by the nightmares. Flames through January, and he wakes up mid-August with saltwater burns in his throat, choking and always choking, every time. He stays out long after work - not the secretaries, though she thinks so and he lets her. What would he say? He's a man, if without memory. Just, not-thinking.

His companion looks up and sideways at the upside-down spirit bottles, exposing a pale arc of throat.

Remember? taunts his subconscious. You remember?

/There's no mark now. Didn't scar at all./

He's going /insane/.

/You may as well have just dreamed it./