You’ve just woken, and you can’t move. You take in the surroundings peripherally. It is, in fact, your room. You can still shift your eyes around, thank goodness. There’s your plant, and your mirror, and it’s dark, your partner is sleeping next to you under the covers. You’re probably dying, or perhaps, by some miraculous catastrophe, you broke your spine in your sleep, and you have a new life to reckon with. You’re picking out your impending wheelchair when an icy blue light flickers in the corner.
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