Page 53 of Dreamscape Therapies

"Made it fresh for you," He says, setting it in front of me with a proud smile.

I look down. At first glance, the burger looks perfectly normal. There's a bun, lettuce, cheese, a patty, and a handful of fries.

Then I notice the fibers. The bun is made from tightly wound beige yarn. The lettuce is green thread, the cheese is yellow, and the meat is a dense knot of dark brown fibers. Even the fries are little bundles of golden yarn.

I look at Vincent, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Thanks," I say carefully.

I pick up one of the fries. It's warm and soft.

And unmistakably yarn.

That's when I hear the laughter. A woman sitting at the nearest table laughs, and three seconds later, she laughs again.

It's exactly the same laugh. Not similar. The exact same sound, right down to the breath at the end.

Then it happens again.

I turn toward the dartboard.

Eric throws his dart and hits the bullseye. He throws his arms up and celebrates, laughing as Ewan shakes his head at him.

Then Eric throws the same dart again.

Bullseye.

Same movement.

Same expression.

Same laugh.

The people around me continue talking, drinking, and eating, but something about them has changed. They're repeating themselves without realizing it, like actors stuck performing the same few seconds of a scene over and over.

Vincent is beginning to notice too.

"What the hell is happening?"

"I don't know," I tell him, although I already have a pretty good idea.

The weaver is back.

A thin strand of yarn drops from the ceiling.

Then another.

They drift slowly through the air before catching on the backs of chairs and the edges of tables. More begin appearing around us, winding themselves around glasses and bottles and curling across the bar.

Vincent stands.

"What is that?"

I don't answer immediately because the yarn is spreading too quickly now. What started as a handful of loose strands becomes dozens, then hundreds, crawling across the walls and floor as if a living web is slowly overtaking the entire building.

The windows darken.

The neon signs flicker.