He was conscious at first of himself, his body sprawled in warmth on its side, covered by the warm slight weight of the blankets, and his head burrowed into the pillow, with light a faint awareness only on his left eyelid. He stretched, not yet opening his eyes, and his arms and legs slid out to new and cold areas of the sheets, bringing him closer to wakefulness. He smiled in sleepy content, and rolled onto his back; his eyes were still shut. He wondered what time it was, where Mrs. Malloy was. Was it Sunday? If it was Sunday, he didn’t have to go to work. Maybe he was supposed to take Edna to a movie tonight. No, it was probably a workday. He opened his eyes, and he wasn’t home; he was in a strange room with bare walls. He sat up, so startled that the backs of his hands started to tingle, that his throat closed, and then in a wash of relief he recognized the room, and remembered the journey, and knew he was home. Had Benny gone? He cocked his head and listened; nothing, no sound.
