i remember the breaths were painfully cyclical, pale white tundra tuned to the solemn ebb and flow of the tides in officer's bay. something was arbitrary still. some fickle inclination seemed to surge then recede . i didnt know it then, i didnt know what it was that was different with each expired second, minuet, hour. it was will. the will to live, or die or exist in an incapacitated state for eternity. it was a joke. Emily said it was a gift. i couldnt see it so.