He felt disoriented. Was he home napping? Wait, the waterbed must be leaking. It was hard and wet. And who opened the windows? He was freezing. He rolled to get away from the dampness and fell two feet to the ground. Where he expected carpet, he felt gravel.He pulled himself up to sit on the wet bench and clumsily pushed a couple of different buttons on his Casio sport watch. One of them finally turned on the light— 8:36. No. It couldn’t be. It was … Wednesday. Bible study night. Geneva would be worried. He was supposed to be home for dinner by 5:30.What happened?His face was numb. An insulin reaction? He’d lain back, stretched out on the bench the way he always did on his way home. He’d eaten raisins, and besides, the mocha should have kicked in. Apparently he’d gone into insulin shock. This wasn’t the first time, but it was the worst. It had never come on so suddenly or wiped him out so completely.Clarence got on his bike, which had no light. He pedaled awkwardly down the trail, tipping to one side, then the other.
