He couldn’t remember which the day of the week it was if his life had depended on it. He glanced back down and saw the knuckles of his hand on the pillow in front of his face. Thomas swallowed and realized he had something in his mouth. His thumb was in his mouth and he was sucking it!
He pulled out his thumb, staring at the damp, wrinkled thumb which had betrayed his trust and silently damned the untoward twist of fate which had cost him his adulthood. He threw off the blanket in disgust and used his arms to push himself up to a sitting position. As he sat up he realized that his bottom felt cold and wet … A foul stench had polluted the air in the volume surrounding the crib.
