from a dream:
I walk down to Terminal 6 again, a raincoat draped over my shoulders and a pollen-filled syringe in my right pocket. Storm clouds gather in the distance, rolling in fast, crashing like a tide. I look back over my shoulder, but the cityscape is all wrong: Portland has transformed into Cedar Rapids. Or vice versa.
Even though the weather feels like spring, the Willamette (or is it the Cedar River?) is frozen solid. I am waiting for an ice cutter ship to pick me up. Destination: unknown.
When it finally arrives, the ship crashes through the ice like a fist. The river shatters, and flecks of ice sting my cheeks and eyes. I look up, and I see Ashley on the deck. He extends his hand, but I cannot quite reach. The ship keeps moving. I throw the syringe, and Ashley catches it.