XIII.

The view outside my window is of an apple orchard and it is rotting. It is not a beautiful view but it’s a view. Some rooms don’t even have windows so it is something to be grateful for, I suppose.

The wallpaper peels down in maize-shaped strips and fall down to the floor next to the dead toys.

I believe I asked for ice water more than twenty minutes ago but I am still thirsty. I wonder what is taking them so long. Perhaps the small red elevators are stuck. Perhaps the explosion outside has delayed things. I simply cannot complain about that.

Bedtime.

I strap the breathing apparatus to my face and lie down. My chin lowers to my chest and I smell apples. I hear trains. I’ve heard trains all my life. I’ve carried my son across train tracks. My eyes zoom in on some birds outside my window. Are they birds? Maybe they are just smoke, smoke shaped like a young man.

I wonder when that ice water is coming. I’m terribly thirsty.

And terribly disappointed.