A young lawyer joins a new firm. Shortly after, he begins to undergo some bizarre physiological changes. He loses his appitite, is unable to drink much of anything, and has a host of flu-like symptoms.

Not long after this begins, he recieves a package - no return address, no identifying marks. The post markings on it are in a foreign language and indecipherable. Inside he finds an unusual ring, pure silver, fashioned in the shape of a triangle with the relief image of folded hands inside of it.

Belief in the moon,
     where we end
    abated and objecting,
    cold distance setting inch upon historical inch.

We hastily practice solitude,
     overcast angels in sheepskin jackets,
     limiting the rolling offenses
     unpaid to Sacred Support.

We are fainting angels,
     angels, cold and distant,
     wrapping flies in bullets,
     the sung grave unconcerned.

Cease wont, asylum angels.
     Awaken Atlas and flee cleverness.

Flesh-eating hearts
     nurtured on line-soup
     nurse ivory anguish
     that is bidden thirsty for us.

Heresy steak,
     spar of the living,
     where our green obligations
     announce thunderous tradition.

Coal redresses discontent
     shudders resistance,
     a dizzy unseen statement.

Dispatch a strip of prison veil,
     the hush of leaves
     a prelude to duck failure.

     that obstructed, devoted meal.

An old man, used up by his years of corporate loyalty. He has spent each evening leaving work late, stopping by a fountain, tossing a coin in. No wishes, no prayers, just a donation. Now, his retirement eve,the end of an uneventful day with the obligatory cake and cards, he stops at the fountain one last time. It is later than usual, nearly midnight, and he is alone by the fountain.

A young man joins him, both sitting by the fountain, and makes him an offer. A reset button, but will not disclose the price. The man takes it, and it is again his first day on the job.

Hide desperation
     contained from wanting illusionary
     knowing life from memory

As manifested sounds
     with soft chamber non-existence

behold, my own wanting
     of another mirror reality