A flimsy, wooden shelf --- you built it yourself --- stocked with a large array of flasks, vials, beakers, and bottles you’ve nicked throughout the years. Most of them are empty, though a fair few remain full. Their contents are a mystery to even you, only interested in the glassware itself. Sometimes, you get the urge to swipe one up and slug it down. Sometimes, you give into these urges. Sometimes, you forget how to walk.

← Go back.