"Don't think I want to find out," he says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, squinting and turning away from the light as she turns the lamp on.

He's remembering more and more about how he got here and everything that had happened since he walked in the door downstairs, and he's not sure what to say. Instead he sits there for a moment, absentmindedly rubbing at the scar tissue on the back of his right hand.