When Chris woke up he saw a tangle of clothes on a bare hardwood floor, and after a moment of studying the clothes in the early morning light he recognized them as him own. His empty shoes stuck out from the bottoms of his jeans, as if he had just slowly disentigrated inside his clothes. What sci-fi movie was that, about some plague, and everyone crumbled to dust until all that was left was a pile of clothes with dust inside? Was it “The Andromeda Strain?” Or was that the one where the bodies remained intact but the blood inside the veins turned to powder? He remembered seeing a film on Saturday afternoon TV when he was about five years old, a scientist in a bubble suit walking up to a slumped-over corpse, the scientist cutting across the vein on an arm with a scalpel, dull red Pixie Stick filling leaking from the cut onto the sleeve of an orange jumpsuit.