Mike Wheeler used to think the little things mattered.

Now he doesn’t know left from right and his world is a steaming pile of mess

"I like to think this is all bad dream sometimes." He admits on a lonely night, watching dust fall from the overhead fan like snowflakes before littering the dirty room below. It's not so lonely with you here, he thinks. "Like, one day I'll just…wake up 12 again, playing DND with the party and nothings changed." He sighs.