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P. 22
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He slept well that night until his
mobile woke him, with that now
common, annoying “good morning, it’s
before eight” bleeping rhythm that he
had always regretted of choosing the
next morning.
The sun hadn’t even arisen yet and,
except for the luminance outside that
reached through the window curtains
from the street lights along the street
outside and the front lights of the few
speeding cars that drove along the road
at this time in the morning, Sam could
only really see pitch-darkness. He
grabbed at his lamp’s switch, pressed it
