I walk to the kitchen, the cupboards empty but for a jar of instant coffee. With a bent spoon I stir the murky brown liquid, sipping its bitter distraction by the sink. Outside the sun is glaring at me. I stare right back into it, wanting the white light to bleach my veins and make me heavenly again. But it’s no use. It’s spread too far now, in between my toes, my groin, behind my knees. It has wriggled its way into my ribcage. A glorious, greedy dictator.