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He
stood
in
the
doorway
,
fumbled
to
his
right
,
and
found
the
switch
plate
.
Two
bulbs
in
an
overhead
cut
-
glass
fixture
came
on
.
Danny
stepped
further
in
and
looked
around
.
The
rug
was
deep
and
soft
,
a
quiet
rose
color
.
Soothing
.
A
double
bed
with
a
white
coverlet
.
A
writing
desk
(
Pray
tell
me
:
Why
is
a
raven
like
a
writing
desk
?
)
by
the
large
shuttered
window
.
During
the
season
the
Constant
Writer
(
having
a
wonderful
time
,
wish
you
were
fear
)
would
have
a
pretty
view
of
the
mountains
to
describe
to
the
folks
back
home
.
He
stepped
further
in
.
Nothing
here
,
nothing
at
all
.
Only
an
empty
room
,
cold
because
Daddy
was
heating
the
east
wing
today
.
A
bureau
.
A
closet
,
its
door
open
to
reveal
a
clutch
of
hotel
hangers
,
the
kind
you
can
’
t
steal
.
A
Gideon
Bible
on
an
endtable
.
To
his
left
was
the
bathroom
door
,
a
full
-
length
mirror
on
it
reflecting
his
own
white
-
faced
image
.
That
door
was
ajar
and
-
He
watched
his
double
nod
slowly
.
Yes
,
that
’
s
where
it
was
,
whatever
it
was
.
In
there
.
In
the
bathroom
.
His
double
walked
forward
,
as
if
to
escape
the
glass
.
It
put
its
hand
out
,
pressed
it
against
his
own
.
Then
it
fell
away
at
an
angle
as
the
bathroom
door
swung
open
.
He
looked
in
.
A
long
room
,
old
-
fashioned
,
like
a
Pullman
car
.
Tiny
white
hexagonal
tiles
on
the
floor
.
At
the
far
end
,
a
toilet
with
the
lid
up
.
At
the
right
,
a
washbasin
and
another
mirror
above
it
,
the
kind
that
hides
a
medicine
cabinet
.
To
the
left
,
a
huge
white
tub
on
claw
feet
,
the
shower
curtain
pulled
closed
.
