In the days before Ozma Initiata, when wild beasts roamed the woodlands and few roads had yet been strung between villages, and peasants ate only potatoes served with gravy made of the dirt scraped off them, a farmer fell in love with a bishop’s daughter and proposed to marry her.
You are returning the milk to the refrigerator when your head begins to swim. Red shapes like semi-transparent scarves flare open in your vision, brimming over with light before they dwindle away. For a moment you think you are going to collapse. You put your hand on the counter to steady yourself. Your heart ticks down the seconds like a bomb. Then the sensation passes, and it is an ordinary day again.