The shade of the building kept the worst of the heat off his head as he sat and ate from the cans of Girt. After finishing them he found a rock and bashed on one end of a corn can until he made a hole big enough to get some out. The ground drank up the juice that was spilt.

(white light)

After finishing his meal he went back to the stables to drink some more water. Eating had given him time to think. Running past the front of the old outpost was a semi paved road going roughly east and west judging by the sun. There was enough food and water here to last a good while but not enough to last forever. It was time to go exploring.

He walked around the outpost for miles, coming back every so often for more water. There wasn’t much to see other than sun baked earth. To the west at least he could see hints of mountain on the horizon. That was something at least.

There was something nagging him (white), had been nagging since he had woke up. He could remember something about before ( bright white); he remembered a color.

It was white.

He kept remembering the feeling of white almost like he had been encased in it; it had been light and it had been material all at the same time. Whatever it was it was close, like the name of an old acquaintance on the tip of your tongue.

By the time he had called it quits for the day he felt baked, like his brain had been cooked inside his head. He went back into the stable and dozed for a time. His dreams were white.