Martin from French IV stands like a stalactite. Why are we on the ceiling of my old bedroom? The last time I saw him or that house was sophomore year, but we're here, right-side-down and together, just left of the ceiling fan.
"Are you St. Peter?"
"I'm afraid of heights."
This isn't height; it's descent. I'm sure, now. Soon the room will start to melt upwards, and I will wake in sterility sans Martin. Unless those purple-curtained windows really are the Gates.
"Martin, If I jump out, will I fall up or down?"
"Down, into the sky."