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Show second moving out of my way. The outside traffic was switching on-I heard cars starting and doors closing. Street lights were still shining, but the sun was close. My body was tired but sensed that my shift was almost over. After work I walked around the city until the sun became too bright, took the bus home and fell asleep with my mind full of color. At night I dreamt about the deserts in Snow Canyon. Blake and I had been to there together, once, but nothing important had happened while we were there. Besides, it was not dry southern Utah but Blake's imagined last thrust for air, his last thought before he drowned, that ran through my mind every night as I fell asleep. My dreams had really no outstanding features. Just fragmented blurs of brightness with the occasional recognition of a memorable landscape scar. For instance, I would be lying on a large red rock with two overwhelming blues coalescing overheard-the blue color of desert heat sticking onto the blue sky like a contact lens. I would not be feeling the inconveniences of sweat and coarse sand on my skin, but rather the warm recognition of insignificance. Sometimes a lizard would protrude from underneath a rock. Mostly, though, the dreams were just colors stirred together-silent and bright. Blake donated his eyes, too. He always saw things with more intensity than I did. I wondered if any of that would carry over to the new owner-if I would recognize the eyes if I saw them again. After I woke up I spent the afternoon looking at a mediocre view until birds in the driveway started to chirp loudly. That woke me up more fully and I made coffee and started thinking about Blake's lotus flower again. Up until now I had never cared about a flower that didn't eat insects or |