She experienced transient feelings of unreality and depersonalization, with a sense of disorientation in space.

An expensive suit hung uneasily on his frame, as if reluctant to get too close; his shirt was a disturbing mauve.

She noted the cost of chocolate syrup and white chocolate syrup at $54.00/gallon and $58.00/gallon.

He fell through the unguarded opening, striking a three-inch angle iron scaffold support and falling to his death in the Gulf of Mexico.

And her hands were restored to her, goodlier than before.

He licked the mossy floor but it tasted sharp and tangy, like the urine of a disease-ridden rodent and he retched and coughed and spluttered.

Things were revolving obscurely around her, like great dangerous machines in a darkened factory, and she was walking blindly among them...

Decades later he destroyed his own leg with a shotgun, an act which apparently liberated him from his tormenting obsession.

She felt as if she knew nothing and could do nothing correctly, and she felt quite alone.

So, ultimately he lost all the things he had so voraciously clung to.