He fell to his knees, then slowly let the rest of his aching body down, turning sideways. He put his hands under his cheek as he used to when he was a child. He must rest, he told himself. Even for a few minutes. When he and Margaret planned to see a movie on a weekday evening after work, he always took ten or fifteen minutes for a siesta before dinner, trying to drain his mind of thought. He must do that now. Think of nothing. This bed of leaves is quite comfortable. It would be easy to fall asleep. Must not fall asleep. Rest. Make the mind a blank, but do not fall asleep. He opened his eyes. You can’t fall asleep with your eyes open. Above him the bracken-like jumble of growth seemed protective. The tops of the redwoods were splayed against the night sky. Make the mind a blank. Count the stars. Were those sounds from the road he was hearing? He sat up. It was no good lying here. It was too good lying here. Slowly, he got to his feet. He couldn’t be far from the road. Should he flag a police car on the road?
