He pressed his face into the stained quilting of the mattress pad, his damp breath releasing an intoxicatingly pungent vapor of sour milk and stale pee. As he inhaled deeply, Kim whimpered softly and crushed himself provocatively against the mattress in a symphony of sticking plastic and squeaking springs.
Kim was not sure how long he had laid there enjoying the blissful solitude of the basement, but he thought that it could only have been a few minutes. He opened his eyes from darkness to gloom, which had grown thicker as the day became overcast and light was triple-filtered through the near opacity of cloud, juniper bush and filthy window. He was drowsy and disoriented and bathed in a film of sweat which seemed to condense on him in the humidity like beads of water on a glass of iced tea.
