I've been here before. I did not recognize it at first and I most certainly do not remember how I got here. Where I was, though much the same physically, locally, economically, is no longer where I am. All I know is that I recognize the same stale taste in the air and know that I have tasted it once before. Like the world in Stephen King novels, my world has moved on and I have yet to catch up to it. I looked down to my feet when I realized where I was and saw that my left foot was abeyant on one side and my right in the other. If my left does not catch up soon, I will probably pull a muscle.

This here is much like a shallow pool of stagnate water, eventually, if it never again opens, then even the bacteria die. Now that I recognize the place, I can make an effort to stir once again, or welcome the fate of sinking spoliated to the bottom of a putrefied hole.