The sun rises steadily through pinks and blues as the toaster makes a sound it has never made before. The burning smell has moved to my basement again, and holes in the front yard appear with increasing frequency. Five identical cars appear from behind a dumpster which is visible from the window. The lights flicker in steady patterns and somebody has stolen my pen again. The car refuses to start in the cold of february and one of these days the sun will fail to come up.