...he would search in bed, but still asked no questions. Apparently, he got lost somehow, 'cause right then he wasn't strong enough; his secrets slept in winter clothes. Strangely enough, there they survived. They would crawl and writhed, keeping to themselves in bittersweet frustration. They helped him out. Their presence comforted him through seasons yet to suffer from insomnia.
Bathroom stalls make me giddy.