Adam had collapsed onto his bed after yet another shift at work, another bout of sensory assault upon a mind that could no longer discern between logging off his work terminal and the drive back home. Sometimes he couldn't even recall opening the door to his cramped apartment, or how he would have to make a path between the seemingly self-accumulating trash. The bed felt so warm, so familiar but Adam couldn't remember that its second half had been where his girlfriend used to sleep. She used to tell him that her side was the best, that it almost seemed like memory foam and that one day she'll let him sleep there just to see his reaction.

She had died in the crash, her face warped by the heat and the lacerations. Her seatbelt had gotten stuck. His did not.

Adam tossed in his bed, the restlessness was normal now, it felt like nothing. If he strains himself, he can remember the moment his car hit the median and the way the world turned into some vile parody of itself.

He cannot say her name. He cannot understand that he killed her by continuing to drive while falling asleep. He buried all of it deep inside, so nothing was familiar, and everything was alien.

Adam knows his attempts at sleep will fail, as is his routine he opens his eyes slowly and feels a potent dryness in his throat. When he pours himself a glass of water and drinks it, he doesn't feel any relief or hydration. The air is hot, and he can feel the sweat on his body stick like plastic melting to flesh.

When he looks ahead of him, he can almost see a face in the darkness. He can almost make out the strands of her hair.

"Remember me. Remember."

In the corner of his eye, Adam could see that the figure was smiling. It beckoned for him to take something from it.

"Now."

Adam didn't recognize when he had lit the match or when exactly he had dropped it.

It took five minutes for the apartment to become engulfed in flames.