The Well

Grey and silent, the morning crept upon Jare with no emotion. To awake would be difficult, for he was not adapted to such an environment that put him to rest in the first place. After Jare regained a morning’s nature, he glanced at his depiction of where the sun would be, although it could not be seen by anyone. His eyes fixated upon a dark cloud, which remained in the sky like a painting.
Thoughts began to wake and movement was birthed about Jare’s body. His eyes glared at his uniform alerting him of his need to go to work. Jare, with no emotion or physical state, placed his clothes on and headed to work: A security office in LA; an occupation of his childhood dreams.
Something wasn’t right. Jare was confused, but didn’t know why. He could not remember anyone’s name; yet he recognized everyone. He could not remember what he should do; yet he did everything with a natural talent. He could not sense emotion with anyone surrounding him; yet he found himself communicating as if it were his gift. The sky never changed. The clouds remained in place as well as the mood for the day. Nothing seemed like it was happening. Jare could not separate this day as reality. Work continued at this state until the day was over.
Although the clock read ten at night, the sky looked the same as it did at ten in the morning. Jare prepared for bed as was his routine. But out of peculiarity, Jare was not able to remember his routine, one that he kept up for over ten years. His room looked different. The bed was in one place, then another; almost as if it moved itself at his every glance. The lights in his room flickered, and his bathroom was cold and wet. Jare glanced at his tub and noticed the overflow of a bath water to which he had never started. He grabbed towels and forcefully shut the bath water off, yet the room was still filling. The lights kept flickering, and then they shut off, leaving Jare alone and wet. He glanced at the sky yet again.
Jare closed his eyes, hoping this was all a dream. As soon as he opened them, he found himself staring at the same cloud, but this time, he found himself at the bottom of a pit. The sky was grey and dark; he was more familiar with his personal state. Water was filling this pit, which directed his sight upwards to only see the grey clouds that were in his other vision. Water filled, the night darkened. He closed his eyes one last time and prayed this was all just a dream.
This was the last prayer.
This was the last breath.