The Morning After

I wake up abruptly. My eye shoots open, pupil constricting, on an extreme close-up. The camera pans out showing me lying on the living room floor surrounded by Dharma beer cans, and black and white game pieces.

“Is it over?” I ask the empty room. “It can’t be over. We have to go back!”

But it is over. I’m finally free of the grasp of the island. It’s done with me. I try to comfort myself with invisible peanut butter and Apollo Bars.

I flashback to a time of plane crashes and polar bears, hatches and castaways.

LOST is my constant.