George was alone with his bad feelings. He wanted to eat, but his stomach felt squeezed. His head was foggy and lazy. He wanted to hear his mother’s sympathies, but she was gone.
His eyes opened, just a little, and he surveyed the room. His ears remembered the soundless nature of the Center. Scattered lights, muted by stone. Light within the stones. George always liked the effect. The warm, lit stone. Orange, Red, Yellow. Salt too, glowing.
George imagined himself to be sitting in “the recliner” – soft, molded to his young body. Above him, he was calmed by the brown “wooden stone” ceiling. On the floor he re-acquainted himself with the softness of the carpet – geometric shapes of brown woven among the beige threads.
Leaving the chair, George eyed the bed, and steadily tucked himself in. The blanket was scented with lavender, and the pillow felt like air. He thought, I am so tired, and fell asleep. As he slept, tiny sensors in the blanket and bed monitored him. As he turned to his side, in response to a dream, the motion sensors alerted the care-nurse to his movement. She stole a glance at the information feed, as she explained to Ms. Elda the deep difficulty George presented.