--Troy Jollimore
Some nights, when Tom retires, he pretty muchimplodes: sucked back through nostril or an earinto the starry void that lies behindhis sleep-blanked visage… Though his body crouchcorpse-still, sunk in suspended animation,arid as freeze-dried food, his spirit findsno rest—a cosmonaut, it treks where no man(and even fewer women) have gone before:Tom’s Inner Self. Its never-ending mission:to seek out a new life—one not to bear,but live… Out of range now of Ground Control,and hurtling straight through Ursa Major, Tomaccelerates toward the inner wall—the universe’s limit—of his skull…
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