[ This is his fault somehow. It's slowly dawning on his slowed mind that he's not where he thought he was; Occam's Razor suggests that the answer is he's not in his room. He sways dangerously backward, heel catching on some unseen object and what little he can see of the world tosses in treacherous waters. What did he do. What did she do. He's spilling again - his oil is gettin geverywhere and she's going to burn with him - ]
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[ This is his fault somehow. It's slowly dawning on his slowed mind that he's not where he thought he was; Occam's Razor suggests that the answer is he's not in his room. He sways dangerously backward, heel catching on some unseen object and what little he can see of the world tosses in treacherous waters. What did he do. What did she do. He's spilling again - his oil is gettin geverywhere and she's going to burn with him - ]
I don't belong here.