Stephen Dedalus awoke to the sound of Buck Mulligan's booming voice echoing through the Martello tower. The morning sun cast long shadows across the stone floor as Buck stood at the parapet, shaving bowl in hand, performing his mock ceremony.
"Come up, Kinch," Buck called down the winding stairs. "The sea awaits us."
Stephen climbed slowly, his mind heavy with thoughts of his mother's death. The guilt weighed upon him like a stone. He had refused to kneel at her deathbed, refused to pray as she had begged. Now her ghost haunted his dreams, her reproachful eyes following him everywhere.
Buck continued his theatrical performance, quoting Latin phrases and making grand gestures. He was always performing, always the center of attention. Stephen watched him with a mixture of amusement and irritation.
"Tell me, Kinch," Buck said, turning serious for a moment, "why do you wear that black suit? Your mother's been dead nearly a year."
Stephen said nothing. How could he explain the burden of grief and guilt that consumed him? How could Buck, with his easy laughter and careless manner, understand the weight of conscience?
The morning stretched before them, full of possibility and dread. Stephen knew he must leave this tower, leave Buck and his mockery behind. But where would he go? What would he do? These questions plagued him as the sun rose higher in the sky.
Buck returned to his shaving, humming a tune. The ordinary morning ritual continued, but for Stephen, nothing felt ordinary anymore. Everything was charged with meaning, heavy with significance.