Apollo’s body seemed to lose all shape. He felt larger, like the size of a star, the sun. A burning gaseous form. Too enormous for the small kitchen of a two-bedroom apartment. Why weren’t walls disintegrating? How soon before the floor and ceiling singed into dust? Why hadn’t the world been burned to ashes instantly? His terror flared hotter than the star at the center of our solar system. I am the god, Apollo! I am the god, Apollo! He rose in his chair. If the bike lock choked him, he couldn’t feel it.
