The bed looks cold and dishevelled.

The bed looks cold and dishevelled.

Sleep.

I'm not tired. [Leave.]

You turn away. Daylight spills in from the window.

You turn away. Evening colours glow across the room.

You turn away. The world outside is dark and quiet.

The bed looks serviceable. Deformed pillows and a depression in the mattress show it has been used.

Room for two. You were supposed to lie here alongside your double.

The bed is mine. He's already claimed the chair.

Seems it is all yours, then, should you ever want to lay in it.

"You don't want to share the bed, do you PSEUDOPOD?"

"..."

Unfortunately, he's not here to dispute my claim.

He's got his own room now, and his own bed. This one is yours -- should you ever want to lay in it.

There are worse fates.

A few of them you already know. At least this one gives you access to a bed -- should you ever want to lay in it.