His name is Steve and he's in solitary confinement in white in a dark room that spans infinitely away––speeding into the universe in dark heroics and he's breathing slowly because it's very hard to breathe when you are alone oh so alone when he looks through the thousands of windows through which he peers at little humans playing soccer, slightly bigger but still little humans doing their taxes it would be melancholy to have a purpose he thinks––to be surrounded by others who can see you and tell you that you're alive you're alive Alive ALive ALIve ALIVe ALIVE is Steve who forgets and forgets in a puddle of chilled snow and an empty briefcase that once held THINGS he was supposed to do but all he can do can do can do is count the golden stars that flicker on one by one by...