He stood upon the edge looking into the abyss thinking ‘does it gaze back at me?’ No! Horror! It looked beyond him, past him, through him. There was no edge. There was no him. The abyss was everywhere, but even that was wrong. There was no abyss, no darkness, no lightness, no edge, no boundary, no nothing, no something. Nothing but his thought, and even that vanished as his eyes bolted open, heart beating, and he stared at the bed room ceiling, his wife’s body breathing beside him. There would be no sleep he knew now, just the despair he felt during the day his companion now in the night.
He rose slowly, so as not to wake her, and in the dark, still shivering, walked to the bathroom. There, head between his hands, he sat while slowly the urine trickled, then rushed, then gushed into the bowl below. And feeling, hearing it, the swish around the porcelain maelstrom, the thought came unbidden but welcome, comforting him, consoling him: I piss, therefore I am; I piss, therefore I am. I piss, therefore I am.