What I had thought was morning dew weighing down my hair is actually my own sweat. My clothes are soaked through.
What is happening to me?
Strangely, I’m not thirsty, though I feel as though I must have sweat out 20 pounds of water weight.
I can’t believe the sky is sending me messages.
Or, alternatively, I’ve finally cracked.
I wonder which scenario is more likely.
Oh darling, I wish you were here.
But you’re not, of course. And I don’t really want you to be, because then you’d be trapped here, too.
Okay. Time to find a way out of here.