*A dark-haired man sits brooding at the end of a pier on Shell Beach, watching--no, making--the sun go down. Somehow the existence of the sunlight makes the days seem shorter and more urgent. He gets tired now, more tired than he can remember getting before. But memory's a tricky thing in this City, so he just tries to ignore his doubts and do
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*picks up a bottle of bourbon from beside him and offers it to Schreber. It is mostly full; clearly he's been drinking, but not to the point of intoxication.*
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