Delving into the deepest corners of your mind, you discover that you desperately need to Swiffer, but static electricity doesn't actually work in this dimension. You shrug hopelessly and shuffle your feet in a little two-step to work off the anxiety. Giants loom in the distance, leering, but you ignore them as you focus on the most important thing you can think of.
I'm perfectly normal! you shout uselessly into the gale as the stormclouds darken the sky. I'm just like all the rest of you, I just get a little mixed up sometimes! No one believes you, not even yourself. It's ugly, but there isn't time for you to reformulate your plan of attack, so you collapse on the ground and aren't sure if you did it on purpose or not. No one comes to look for you.
There hasn't been a solid explanation in week and you've given up on asking. The truth is no longer an option, but the lies are unbearably laughable and the arbiters have absconded all pretense of neutrality. But if it was pretense, did it ever actually matter? A crooked limb shudders and creaks under the weight of the snow.
