::: the answer's out there somewhere
The room was full of a neutral headache grey. I paused at the bottom of the stairs. The grey was boiling up, climbing, as if it wanted to spill into harsh, harsh, harsh laughter. Through the narrow hall window I saw squares of life on the backs of the houses opposite. A dirty bulb came on near by. An exhausted man, an exhausted man, an exhausted man, in black pajamas—or is it straight jacket?—hunched over a sink. Would they turn towards their window, and find me out?
* * *
