April 7, 1992 at 10:18 a.m.

I walked on the matted grass of the the plains and through the thin savannah waters. The pulsing sunlight felt clean and clarifying, piercing through the vast expanse ahead. Harriet and Nari were behind me. I didn’t turn back as they became steadily more distant.

“John!” I heard them call. I kept walking- my bones felt heavy on each step.

April 7, 1985 at 10:18 a.m.

I walked into class late without my books. I sat in the far back of the room, where the lecture was only a comfortable buzzing of insects in the back of my mind. Sunlight filtered in through the windows. Basking in the light blurred my vision and brought to my memory the smell of used bookstores.

“John,” I heard. But the distant inquiries of the professor drained away as I fell asleep in a warm embrace.

April 7, 1992 at 11:18 a.m.

I could taste the dust of the desert in my throat and feel grains of sand circulating through my veins. My eyes blinked, and there was a film of mucus upon them that had formed like algae thick upon water that had once been cool and clear.

I could feel despair like a taloned monster inside of me. It scratched at my walls slowly with one skeletal finger and never stopped scratching.

April 7, 1985 at 11:18 a.m.

When I awoke, class was long over. The only living things remaining in the lecture hall were myself and a small, potted indoor cactus, the class “pet” that had been long forgotten.

I turned to it and laughed. “So, are you waiting after class for the professor too? Well, it looks like he forgot to come!” I chuckled to myself and smiled expectantly at the cactus. “ Maybe we should file a complaint! We should call ourselves the brunch club!” My peals of laughter echoed through the room.

April 7, 1992 at 12:18 a.m.

My hands and lips felt like brittle clay, as if I was some terracotta warrior digging in the emperor’s tomb for precious water instead of gold.

My despair began to turn to madness and frustration, and my eyes began to throb. My tongue was like a dragon resting in a dry, hot cave. Only water could wash away the dust.

The thirst was so great that I began to cry- but I could only weep invisible tears of soot and sand. Then suddenly, I began to roar with laughter. My face bulged and my hands slapped the ground, caked with dust and hysteria. The desert had stolen even my sadness.

April 7, 1985 at 12:18 a.m.

I noticed that the cactus was dying. At its base, the firm, verdant flesh had become sickly brown and papery. The cactus sat in the shadows under the windowsill, and I gazed at it as I continued to bask in the sun’s rays. I emptied my water bottle into its soil.

I remembered that the cactus had come from the desert. There must be a lot of sunlight there, I thought. I looked back again at the cactus under the windowsill, shielded from the warmth that I so enjoyed. I rose slowly and exited the classroom without turning back.

April 7, 1992 at 1:18 a.m.

I stumbled on, weak in the knees. My eyes were red from weeping, but my face was dry. I continued walking, until miraculously, I saw a spiny, twisted green plant in the distance that had risen up from the fruitless plain. It seemed as if the cactus and I were the only living things remaining in the desert.

I eagerly made my way over to it, and used a blunt pocketknife to hack it to pieces. I gripped the rounded rind of the cactus, and its thin, bony spikes were unable to penetrate my calloused hands.

My lust for water had nearly driven me mad, and I quickly drank the fluids preserved within the cactus’ flesh. I expected it to be clear and refreshing, but rather the cactus’ juice was thick and viscous. I choked as I swallowed it down, and it brought me no satisfaction to consume such bile.

I left the cactus drained and mutilated as I turned back to find Harriet and Nari.