A breeze shifted the curtains and a beam of sunlight danced on the sheet in front of Thomas. Thomas was laying on his side, facing the window. He opened his eyes sleepily, looking out between the curtains of the window and was greeted by the sight of the morning sun half-hidden by the nursery’s curtains and the joyous green of the leaves of the tree that grew on the side of the house. From the height of the sun it appeared to be about seven or eight am. Thomas had never had a good sense of time or date, relying as an adult on his wrist watch to keep him temporally oriented. He thought back and tried to remember what day it was so he could gauge his age, but the timelessness of his mother’s house defeated him.
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