As his closed eyelids became slits, he felt the lens flare of morning pierce him. His tidy bedroom felt orange in the sunlight. It revved its engine and began bouncing radiance off its walls.

The cartographer awoke in a suit.

He extends his right hand towards the lamp and extinguishes it; then jumps out of his cradle. Undressing himself as he walks, he develops his nudity.

He reaches the bathroom sink, bare.

Liquid mint resting in the washbasin suddenly leaps into his mouth.
He sculpts it into viscous paste with precise toothbrush strokes.
Perfectly-cylindrical dental cream emerges from his oral cavity upon bristles. He lets it slide into a tube.

A jet of urine shot out of his commode and flew into his urethra. Simultaneously, his rear end swallowed chunks of stool that flew out of the same commode. Mango.

A vacant plate awaits his arrival upon the breakfast table; the sole chair in the diminutive vicinity is unoccupied.

Resting his tight, exposed buttocks on the single seat, he fishes for carved cubes of Cuban alphonso in his oesophagus with a fork. Once picked, he places his catch in the plate.

Before long, each brick that was formerly part of the exotic fruit lay upon the platter like distorted architecture. The tri-dimensional masterpiece is positioned within a refrigerator.

A map on a lonely canvas sits majestically upon an easel within the messy living room. The Tyndall effect the casement spits on the painting makes the acrylic dazzle. The particulate spotlight is set. He erases the geography, operating his brush with intense dexterity. The paint gradually melts into void.

Eventually, a naked canvas stares at him, blinking in the moonlight that the casement showers upon them. The living room feels purple. It yawns.

He used his bathroom for a second time. The fabric abandoned by him that morning lay upon the wooden floor, intact. He donned the suit little by little whilst marching towards his bed.

He amended his Windsor knot and ignited his lamp before dissolving into the mattress, dressed to kill.

“Beepbeepbeep. Beepbeepbeep. Beepbeepbeep.”

His alarm clock sung him a lullaby as he rewinded a mental VHS.