"Step out of yourself," she demands, and pushes me. "Come on. Let it go. I know you can do this. Reach."

There are orange people in the box, strange little humans. On one wall hangs a tiny screen. The dark, spiraling strobes and tunneling captivates the orange people, colors burning images into their cracked open eyes.

I CAN EXPLAIN.... A hazy mantra slips confused amidst a bundled burble of drums. A shadow waves its hand through fire.

"They're watching." The smallest of the orange people nudges his companion.

"Shh!" mutteres a few of the others.

The little one persists. "But they are."

His companion shrugs. "Does it matter?"

Carefully the god returns the cover to the box. She puts the box in the back corner of the top shelf of her closet. Not hidden, for she likes to take it down regularly.

Each day the contents give me something to think about. I often wish I could climb in the box with the orange people. It would help me remember, for if I did, perhaps she would live. She sleeps that strange sleep now.

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