Skye jerked up. Sweat dripped down his temple. His eyes were wide. Skye looked around. Familiar features slowly greeted him: a lamp, a table, his clothes. Calm slowly reentered him. He pulled the sheets off of him and walked down the hall. He found himself going toward the fridge. Drawings cover it: a sketch of the wasteland, his face twisted in anguish, the blinding sun, a girl's face, a child's hand.
Each confused Skye.He drew each, knew every detail, but he didn't know why. Skye stared at the last drawing, the one of a child's hand. He had drawn every detail in, right down to the fingerprints. He followed the lines and curves with his eyes, searching for some meaning. Suddenly, he jerked himself from his trance opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle. He popped the top and drank. The liquid inside was gone in seconds.