They will let me go to bed, won’t they? Of course they will. They can’t resist. And if I ask for it, beg for it, make them crazy with my whining, they will open that giant door and let me go. I’m just so tired and I want to sleep. In a dark room, on top of the sheets. I’ll make my own little nest, dig my own little hole and sleep for the rest of the day. That’s how it goes.
They open the door. Is it really for me? Yes, they are looking at me and waiting, making sounds I don’t understand. But I don’t care. I go up the stairs, hoping for that one door to be opened. Then – footsteps. I look to the right. She’s leaving her room. The bed is empty now. The bed is empty. Would it be a good one? That one’s better. Is there still someone there? No. They aren’t. I can hear the dishes.
I don’t want to go there. Here’s my bed. I just have to push a bit and… it opens. Darkness. That’s good. Where will I lie? Here. It’s good. Some little pushing and preparing before I lie down and clean myself up a bit. It’s needed. It calms me down.
Someone opens the door again. I won’t move. They won’t pick me up and dump me somewhere else, will they? No, she just talks and lets me be. Good. Don’t hug me. Go.
She goes away. Could I make a perfect circle only using myself? I won’t try to keep my eyes open. They’re closing. No resistance.