epilogue
Life quickly devolves into bland beige paste. Matthew stirs the milk to hasten the process. His brain is soggy, saturated by painkilling chemicals. He spoons a mouthful of slurry and swallows without chewing. Next week: solid foods.
But his dreams are cautionary films. Food is chewed, mashed into gaping gum sockets. Embedded in biology that heals around it. Spoiled. Thobbing pain. The jawbone splinters under the pressure of swelling pus. Matthew's face rots. Melts. Dead skin slides away in swaths, dripping and beige.
Matthew stares into the bowl of cereal.
"How is it?" asks Counterpoint.
"Gmh," says Matthew, with the spoon in his mouth.