The soft smell of dust was the only thing he could perceive for a solid minute. Then, with a great rustle, he rose. His feet were sore from disuse, as was his back.
“What is… I was working on something, yeah?”
He was. He stood in a snowstorm of papers, each with an avalanche of black ink staining them. Figures that seemed like math, and physics, and maybe even a treatise on God moved amongst the slush.
“Oh, right, I remember now,” he said. He stretched his arms above his head. “I was figuring out the secrets of—”
He heard a faint sound behind him. Something between a hiss and a growl.
He turned back to the pile of papers. A shark fin made of human flesh rose from the pile, moved around a bit, then disappeared into the mush.
“Oh… uh, I think I’ll take a break,” he said. “I can finalize it later.”