Since this morning, it's been hard for much of anything to break through the roaring static in Michael's ears. He feels out at sea, knocked down again and again by waves he's not fast enough to escape. There'd been no sleeping for him last night and not much the night before, either; his eyes feel dry, tired, stung by light and color. God knows what Peggy had seen in his face that made her think things would get even worse.
He stares blankly at the wall, failing to turn around. Lee's words get temporarily lost in the water, in swirling images of space and sky and Michael's father and things from the horrifying dreams he's been having more and more often for the past couple months. It takes him a minute to fish them out.
“Peggy said I should take the day off,” he murmurs dully.