"The shitty takeout containers and the trick-or-treating monks seemed but a hallucination. This right here—this vibrantly colored orange— this was the real world, clean and alert, confident and rejoicing. She slipped a seedless grape into her mouth and closed her eyes as her teeth punctured the skin with a snap. She poured a glass of orange-guava juice and downed it in five gulps. Satiated, she pranced into the bathroom, where she faced her wall of soaps, exfoliants, conditioners, and moisturizers, the balms, muds, glosses, and creams. She cranked the shower up to steamy, stripped out of her pajamas, and proceeded to enjoy a forty-five minute session under the nozzle."
—page 323, Blueprints of the Afterlife by Ryan Boudinot.
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