The first thing I notice is a voice.
"Uncle…"
It comes from far off, drowned in something thick.
I try to move, but my body carries too much weight. My chest feels full of wet sand. My arms are pinned under me, numb, without strength. There's no ceiling, no floor, no wall. Only darkness and an absence pressing from the inside.
"Uncle…"
A hand passes in front of my eyes.
Small. Cold. Gripping the sleeve of my clothes as if it were the last solid thing in the world. Then hair stuck to a face, a pale cheek, the white hood pulled tight against narrow shoulders.
'Lola?'
The image vanishes before I can reach it.
My throat closes.
"Uncle!"
I wake in a sharp jolt.
My hands close on two thin arms, and I'm rising before my eyes finish opening. The chair scrapes the floor. Someone lets out a short, startled sound. I pull the body up and away from the table like a man saving a vase the instant before it falls and breaks.
Then the factory returns.
