Shiloh Storm

Fuege State

A man in a suit. Or rather a man who appears to be stood at the edge of the ether, waiting. He is holding dice, he looks left, he looks right, then players appear on either side of him. The players mouths are moving fast and opening wide, but I cannot hear them. I go closer, and all surfaces surrounding them darken quickly, an iodine sky. Now I can see the table and the voices build from whispers to roars.