“The voice was deep, quiet, calm. I liked the calm. I liked the quiet. I liked the fact that someone was there at the end of this long, long tunnel… I opened my eyes. Blackened open beams. One of those mid-century — last century — starburst ceiling light shades. Gold stars on a black background. “How are you doing?” the voice inquired, and I snapped back to the present. I was lying on the sofa in Kirk’s living room. Kirk sat on the coffee table, folded arms braced on his thighs as he scrutinized... me. “Hey,” I said in a creaky, old man’s voice. His mouth quirked. “Had a nice nap?” “I guess?” Had I? How long had I been out? I felt strange. Not bad. Not good exactly, unless it was the way you feel good after a bad hangover, when just not feeling horrendous seems wonderful. I felt warm, that was the main thing — and the best thing. Warmth. God. When was the last time I’d been warm all the way through? It probably had something to do with the mountain of mothball-scented blankets piled on top of me.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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