It smelled familiar. That particular, artificial odor of plaster and carpet that makes a place distinctive. The bed was a little uncomfortable tonight but Jack felt at ease in a familiar setting, and the promise of who would be near by.
The evening sunlight streamed in but Jack couldn't manage the energy to close the blinds. He'd already dreamt ten times that he'd done it, why bother once more?
Sorry for the swears lately, it's totally artistically important. For real. --But, I'm super sorry. 'Cause you know, someone might be offended by it, and not that dessicated corpse.
