Good ideas really do come when you're in a comfortable bathroom.
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Sometimes I see it. Scenes of a life. A quaint house on a hillside overlooking rolling waves of emerald and gold. The pitter-patter of feet echo through the hillside as they run to me. So precious. They call to me, tugging playfully at my hem, skipping and pointing at a door. Someone emerges from the way; a woman. The children, ecstatic, run off to the beautiful figure, hugging her legs tightly as they continue to beckon for me. They all shined a light so bright, growing more overwhelming with every step. I can see her face; as a twinge seizes my heart. A slender hand strokes my cheek and supple lips mutter words unheard. I want to ask her to repeat it, but the words are stuck, an acrid taste taking their place. Tears surface within her auburn eyes. My fists clenched hard enough to numb my hands. Why do you cry? Who are you? Do I know you? Why does it hurt? I find myself farther away. I want to turn back, but something keeps me. I can hear cries as I depart. Further and further away, slowly being consumed by the blinding light. I cannot hear. I cannot see. I cannot feel. Nothingness. Except a longing. I hear a voice stained with longing and, as always, brings the familiar twisting pain to my heart. Yes, I know this one: "Minions have spawned."
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