Edward was staring at the wall.
The wall hadn’t been there moments before, and now, that it was he stood transfixed. Edward was a rational man, and worried, rationally, that if he took his eyes off the wall it would cease to exist as suddenly as it had come into existence.
Edward was quite sure he hadn’t seen the wall before. No it was not from his house, nor from his mother’s or any of his friends. In fact Edward had always been fond of wallpapers and he was sure he had not seen this pattern before, nor wallpaper of this degraded quality. The wallpaper was of an early 90s floral pattern to be sure, but was covered in layers of dust and age, as if no one had touched the wall for years.
So Edward decided that yes, this was a wall, and not some form of a hallucination or anything of that form. In fact Edward would much rather believe that walls could appear out of nowhere instead of them popping out of his own consciousness. Things like that were just unsettling.
If time were a bubble made of molasses, with a infinite radius within the perceivable universe, Edward was certain that for this moment he was at its core. The floral patterns began to shift, but it was impossible to tell if it was the colors reaching out to him, like lead files to a magnet, or if it was, perhaps, his eyes straining and breaking from ceaseless, relentless, defiant concentration on this inexplicable force. His thoughts became unsteady, like a train tilting off of its tracks, as he tried to gage how much of the shifting was his own paranoid projections, and how much was continued inexplicableness. He decided he must blink, less the waves of confusion overtake him.