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A fish creature sits in therapy with a suited man.

Man eats eyeballs while creature offers more on platter.

The deceased forgot to delegate his own attendance.

Scales and silence, breakfast claimed by the deep.

Even the centipede showed up before the fish did.

Everyone absorbed in screens, missing the smoking bread entirely.

Darkness breathes, and something thin watches from above.

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Even flies, it turns out, prefer staying in.

The city holds its breath, unbothered by strangeness.

A man in a suit stands near two ducks.

Even dentophobia needs its own therapy session, apparently.

The spelling error arrived confidently, teeth and all.

Fish-headed figure in suit looms over sleeping person.

Meat clouds gather where sleep dissolves into dread.

Two flies mating on sticky flypaper, others trapped nearby.