It takes me a while to realize that someone has spoken, and I haven't just heard a voice in my head. It says something, about how I am still not well, that I would consider the fact that the man isn't real. I turn in the direction of the voice, needing to ascertain that there is, in fact, someone there, and nod in satisfaction when I see the man.

At least if I'm hallucinating, it's a full audio-visual spectacle, not just words floating on air.

"I'm not sure what I'm waiting for," I admit as I rub my hands against my forearms. "Inspiration, maybe."