Dr Kazan removes nightmares for a living.
Today’s patient—a soldier—leaves smiling. War horrors excised from his mind. Clean. Whole.
Kazan locks his office door; injects the stabiliser. The soldier's memories writhe beneath his skin like fire ants, burrowing and biting.
In his notebook, Kazan documents new symptoms: bleeding gums, hallucinations of sand-filled lungs.
At home, his wife notices nothing.
Later, in dreams, Kazan cradles a dying child in Baghdad. His hands remember a rifle's weight, though he's never held one.
He wakes, reaches for his scalpel.
Perhaps he could extract memories from himself, if he cut deep enough.