Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20190402224637/@comment-25828117-20190404202925

The farmhand wanted to clutch his head. It felt like a molerat was gnawing on his brain.

Every source of light seemed to suffer from obscene amounts of saturation as if the bright shapes were trying to burn themselves onto his eyes in an aura of inescapable bloom.

It made it hard to concentrate on anything really. Chinese characters from the neon lights of chinatown danced in his vision and memory. He knew what they meant. How? Was this his previous life? It couldn't be... He had never been to San Francisco. He was sure of that...