"So when are you leaving?" Mimi asked Roger, that next morning.
Roger glanced at the old antique clock that Maureen had given them. "Two- Thirty. So I should leave in about twenty minutes."
"Are you scared?" Mimi asked, quietly.
Roger shrugged. "I was before. Now I just wanna get this over with, you know?"
Mimi nodded. "I just have this bad feeling," she said, in a small voice.
"Hey, come here," Roger said, gently, bringing her closer to him for a hug.
"Roger, my arm," Mimi reminded him, wincing in pain as he squeezed too tight.
"Sorry," he said, quickly, releasing her.
"It's okay," she said, rubbing her shoulder.
"When do you get to take that thing off, anyway? It's making things difficult."
Mimi smirked. "Like what?"
"Well. Sex, for instance. How am I supposed to do my thing with the edge of your sling cutting into my side?"
Mimi laughed. "You pig!"
"You love me." Roger kissed her on the cheek.
"Uh huh."
"Say it!" he said, tickling her in the ribs.
"Ag! I love you!" she groaned, and he stopped.
"Say it like you mean it," he teased, wrapping his arms around her again, more gently this time.
"I love you," she whispered, and stood on her toes to kiss him gently on the lips.
"Mmm. I wish I could just stay here with you all afternoon instead of going down to the station like some escaped convict."
"You've got to, baby," Mimi said, sympathetically.
Roger groaned. "I know, I know."
"Cheer up- you can spend the whole NIGHT with me afterwards," she said, winking.
"Ooh, tempting," he laughed.
"Are you making fun of me?"
"I don't know. Am I?"
"Fuck you," she said, but she was grinning.
"Tonight," he promised her.
Mimi giggled.
Roger glanced at the clock again. "I've got to meet Maureen in front outside in a few minutes. It sucks not having my own car," he groaned.
"Well, would you rather have your guitar, or a car?"
"Good point," he said. "I'd better go."
"Alright. Good luck," she said, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder.
"Thanks. I'll be back tonight, okay?"
"'Kay."
"Love you."
"Love you too," she said, as he went downstairs to meet Maureen.
***
"How're you doing?" Roger asked Maureen, as he slid into the car next to her.
"Good," Maureen said, as she started up the car.
"Heard from Jimmy lately?"
"Nope."
"Weird. I figured he'd be kissing your ass now that you're turning into a real artist."
"I guess."
"You excited?"
"About what?"
"About becoming a world-famous artist, Mo."
"I guess so."
"So you hear from that Oliver guy lately?"
"What is this, twenty fucking questions?" she stormed, all of a sudden.
"Christ. Sorry," Roger said, holding up his hands in defense.
"Don't mention it," she said, gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles were turning white.
"You sure you're okay, Mo?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You're not acting like yourself."
"And suddenly you know me so well?"
"Well, I HAVE known you for three years."
"Big fucking deal," she grumbled.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," Roger mumbled, staring out the window.
After a few minutes, Maureen pulled up in front of the station.
"Thanks," Roger said, as he got out of the car.
"Don't mention it."
"I'll see you later?"
"If you haven't been sentenced to life in prison."
"Jeez, Maureen, thanks for being so comforting," he said, sarcastically.
"Alright, then I'll see you at four."
"Alright. Bye," he said, as Maureen sped off.
Roger stared at the large marble building for a moment, before slowly trudging up the steps and entering it.
***
"Hey, Hon," Joanne called, when she heard the front door open and close. "Maureen?" she called, when she didn't get an answer.
"I'm here," Maureen said, flatly, plopping into a chair.
"Hey, I haven't seen you all day. First I had that damn dentist appointment, and then you had to go drive Roger over."
"Sorry. How was the dentist?"
"It was a bitch. I had two fillings."
"Sorry."
"So how's your day been so far?" Joanne asked.
Maureen shrugged. "So far, so good."
"That doesn't say much," Joanne said.
Maureen shrugged again. "Yeah, well."
"So you never told me what happened when you went to see Mr. Caldwell. Is he interested in your paintings?"
"Yeah," Maureen said, squirming in her seat uneasily.
"Do you know which pieces he wants to show?"
"We didn't really get that far," Maureen said, picking at her nails nervously.
"How far DID you get?"
Maureen shrugged.
"Jeez, Maureen, you're acting pretty weird."
"What do you mean?" Maureen snapped, agitated.
"I mean you're acting really moody and jumpy and nervous."
"So?"
"So, that's not like you at all."
"Yeah? Well maybe I'm turning over a new leaf."
"Tell me what's bothering you?" Joanne pleaded.
"Nothing's bothering me," Maureen grumbled.
"Well then can you tell me why you're acting so weird?"
"Why the fuck is everyone hoarding me with questions?" Maureen shouted, throwing up her hands. "Can't I get any fucking privacy around here?"
"I was just asking," Joanne exclaimed, startled by her outburst.
"Well don't question. Just leave me alone."
"Fine. Maybe I should just leave then," Joanne snapped, becoming angrier by the second.
"Fine! Go! At least I'll have a Goddamn moment to myself."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
Maureen winced as she heard the front door slam loudly, making the doorknob rattle.
"God, Maureen, what's wrong with you?" she asked herself aloud.
The phone rang all of a sudden, as if to answer her question.
Maureen walked over to it and swiped the phone out of it's cradle.
"Hello?" she grumbled.
"Hey, babe. Miss me?"
"Oliver! This is the fourth fucking time you've called me!" Maureen hissed.
"Yeah, so? I miss hearing the sound of your voice."
"Yeah, well I can do without hearing yours. I have a girlfriend, Oliver. I have my own life. Just leave me alone."
"Well, Maureen, you've really got no choice about talking to me. Sooner or later we're gonna have to discuss putting your stuff into my collection."
"Weren't we supposed to talk about that last time? Before you hit on me?" Maureen snapped.
"Hey, you wanted it to happen just as much as I did. Don't pretend not to."
Maureen was silent.
"C'mon, Maureen, admit it. We have a connection going on. Can't you feel it?"
"I'll talk to you later, MR. CALDWELL," Maureen snapped, slamming the phone down.
Letting out a scream of annoyance, she stomped off to the bathroom to take a shower, hoping it would change her mood for the better.
***
Mimi heard Roger come in at around five.
"That you, baby?" she called, from the kitchen.
"It's me," he said, as he walked towards the sound of her voice.
"How'd it go?" she asked, nervously.
"Well," Roger said, slowly. "They did the autopsy."
"And?"
"They saw that Joel died from a blood clot in his brain, which resulted from me hitting him. They said it COULD be categorized as homicide. BUT," he continued, before Mimi could say anything, "They did a background check on him. He has a history of violence. He's been taken in more than once for using violence towards a cop, he did time for dealing drugs in Central Park, AND I told them about what he'd been doing to Daisha, and how he hits you. So they believe that I hit him out of self defense, because they know that him becoming dangerous and carrying a gun is not all that surprising. They questioned your mother, also, and she told them all about how he used to treat you and your sisters. They're saying that it was an accidental murder, done out of self defense. They're letting me off the hook."
"Baby, that's great," Mimi exclaimed, feeling a great weight of nervousness being lifted.
"But I still may have to go to court. They said it's not probable, but it's still something to keep in mind."
"Well at least that's the worst that could happen," Mimi murmured, wrapping her good arm around him tightly.
"Yeah. For a moment there I thought they were gonna lock me up and throw away the key."
"I'd bail you out," Mimi said, winking.
"Meems, you can't bail someone who's sentences for life," Roger laughed.
Mimi stuck out her tongue. "Well I don't know how all this police stuff works. I just watch COPS on TV, but that's all."
Roger laughed, and hugged her back, lifting her off the ground.
"I love you," Mimi murmured, covering his face in kisses.
"Where's the party?" Mark's voice asked, as he stepped into the kitchen.
"Hey, Mark," Roger said, as he put Mimi on the ground.
"How'd it go?"
Roger told him what happened.
"So they're not keeping you?"
"Nope."
"Good," Mark sighed, relieved. "So we have nothing to worry about?"
"I may have to appear in court. But other than that, everything's going to be fine."
"That's great. Oh, I almost forgot," he said, suddenly. "Yesterday Jan called. She was inviting me to spend Christmas with her at with her parents in Ardsley."
"We always spend Christmas together, though," Roger frowned.
"If you don't want me to, I'll stay," Mark said, quickly.
Roger rolled his eyes. "Mark, if it'll make you and Jan happy, go. I don't want to be a party pooper. Besides, Christmas is a few weeks away, and you've got time to think it over."
"Okay. Thanks, Rog."
"When's she coming back?"
"Tomorrow," Mark grinned. "I can't wait."
"Puppy love," Mimi declared, from behind Roger.
Roger laughed.
"Yeah. Well I just stopped by to grab my camera," said Mark.
"Why?"
"Early Christmas project. You'll see."
Roger shrugged. "So you're going back out then?"
"Yup."
"Okay. See you later."
"Bye," Mark said, exiting the room.
Roger then turned to Mimi. "Alone at last," he said, smiling.
"Yup," she smiled back at him.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Ms. Marquez, but I believe you promised to accompany me to the bedroom tonight?"
Mimi laughed. "Do you ever think about anything besides sex?"
"Sure. You."
Mimi laughed as he carried her off and disappeared into their bedroom.
***
"So did you ask Roger?" Jan asked Mark, over the phone.
Mark was at a payphone, about a block away from Central Park.
"Yup. He says it's fine if I want to go."
"Great!" Mark could almost HEAR her smiling. "So, what're you doing?"
"Nothing much. I'm just gonna go do some random filming."
"Marky, the filmmaker," Jan sighed. "It sounds so dreadfully sexy."
"Well, if you think of it THAT way," Mark said, filming a frozen wad of gum stuck to the floor of the booth near his shoe.
"So, I'm coming home tomorrow."
"I know. I can't wait."
"Neither can I. I mean, I love my folks to death, but . . . you know."
"Yeah, I do," Mark said, rolling his eyes. His mother tended to be a pain in the ass on a number of occasions.
"I've gotta run, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"You betcha."
Jan giggled. "I love you, Mark."
"Love you too."
"Bye."
"Bye."
***
"Well. That was fun," Roger said.
"Mmm hmm," Mimi murmured, resting her head on his bare chest.
"What time is it?" he asked her.
"Dunno. Check the clock."
Roger glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed. Eight oh clock. You hungry?"
"Nope."
"Me neither. What do you wanna do?"
"Sleep," Mimi mumbled into his chest.
"You're boring," Roger laughed.
"I can't help it. I've been having a lot of late nights."
"Yeah, I guess I have too."
Mimi sat up suddenly, and slid off the bed, walking over to the closet, pulling out one of Roger's crumbled T-shirts, and a pair of flannel pajama pants.
With her back towards him, she pulled off her shirt and bra, and for the first time Roger saw the gunshot wound clearly without the bandages on it.
"That looks like it kills," he said, wincing.
"What?" Mimi said, her back still towards him.
"You know. The gunshot wound."
Mimi looked over her shoulder and made a face. "Yeah, that is pretty nasty, isn't it?"
"You think it'll leave a scar?"
"Probably," she shrugged, pulling the shirt over her head, and sliding into the flannel pants.
"That'll be a pretty impressive war wound," Roger said, as she slid back into the bed beside him.
Mimi shrugged.
Roger rolled onto his back, and stared at the ceiling. He'd never noticed the tiny dots that decorated it before.
"What're you looking at?" Mimi asked him.
"The dots."
"The dots?"
"On the ceiling."
Mimi raised her eyebrows. "You're weird."
"Part of my charm."
Mimi rolled onto her back, and stared at the ceiling as well.
"Having fun?" Roger asked, turning his head towards her.
"Tons," she replied.
"Instead of counting sheep now we can count dots."
"That's fucked up."
"Yeah. Wanna try it?"
Mimi laughed. "Whatever."
"No really. Try it."
Mimi rolled her eyes. "Okay. One, two, three, four . . ."
Roger closed his eyes and listened to the melodic sound of her voice. Pretty soon, he was asleep.
"One hundred forty seven . . . Roger, this is stupid, I'm not doing this anymore."
Silence.
"Roger?" Mimi said, poking him.
Roger rolled over, but didn't wake up.
Mimi smiled, and laughed, silently.
She wrapped his arm around her waist, making herself feel more secure.
Then she closed her eyes, and in a matter of minutes she faded into sleep.
Roger glanced at the old antique clock that Maureen had given them. "Two- Thirty. So I should leave in about twenty minutes."
"Are you scared?" Mimi asked, quietly.
Roger shrugged. "I was before. Now I just wanna get this over with, you know?"
Mimi nodded. "I just have this bad feeling," she said, in a small voice.
"Hey, come here," Roger said, gently, bringing her closer to him for a hug.
"Roger, my arm," Mimi reminded him, wincing in pain as he squeezed too tight.
"Sorry," he said, quickly, releasing her.
"It's okay," she said, rubbing her shoulder.
"When do you get to take that thing off, anyway? It's making things difficult."
Mimi smirked. "Like what?"
"Well. Sex, for instance. How am I supposed to do my thing with the edge of your sling cutting into my side?"
Mimi laughed. "You pig!"
"You love me." Roger kissed her on the cheek.
"Uh huh."
"Say it!" he said, tickling her in the ribs.
"Ag! I love you!" she groaned, and he stopped.
"Say it like you mean it," he teased, wrapping his arms around her again, more gently this time.
"I love you," she whispered, and stood on her toes to kiss him gently on the lips.
"Mmm. I wish I could just stay here with you all afternoon instead of going down to the station like some escaped convict."
"You've got to, baby," Mimi said, sympathetically.
Roger groaned. "I know, I know."
"Cheer up- you can spend the whole NIGHT with me afterwards," she said, winking.
"Ooh, tempting," he laughed.
"Are you making fun of me?"
"I don't know. Am I?"
"Fuck you," she said, but she was grinning.
"Tonight," he promised her.
Mimi giggled.
Roger glanced at the clock again. "I've got to meet Maureen in front outside in a few minutes. It sucks not having my own car," he groaned.
"Well, would you rather have your guitar, or a car?"
"Good point," he said. "I'd better go."
"Alright. Good luck," she said, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder.
"Thanks. I'll be back tonight, okay?"
"'Kay."
"Love you."
"Love you too," she said, as he went downstairs to meet Maureen.
***
"How're you doing?" Roger asked Maureen, as he slid into the car next to her.
"Good," Maureen said, as she started up the car.
"Heard from Jimmy lately?"
"Nope."
"Weird. I figured he'd be kissing your ass now that you're turning into a real artist."
"I guess."
"You excited?"
"About what?"
"About becoming a world-famous artist, Mo."
"I guess so."
"So you hear from that Oliver guy lately?"
"What is this, twenty fucking questions?" she stormed, all of a sudden.
"Christ. Sorry," Roger said, holding up his hands in defense.
"Don't mention it," she said, gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles were turning white.
"You sure you're okay, Mo?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You're not acting like yourself."
"And suddenly you know me so well?"
"Well, I HAVE known you for three years."
"Big fucking deal," she grumbled.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," Roger mumbled, staring out the window.
After a few minutes, Maureen pulled up in front of the station.
"Thanks," Roger said, as he got out of the car.
"Don't mention it."
"I'll see you later?"
"If you haven't been sentenced to life in prison."
"Jeez, Maureen, thanks for being so comforting," he said, sarcastically.
"Alright, then I'll see you at four."
"Alright. Bye," he said, as Maureen sped off.
Roger stared at the large marble building for a moment, before slowly trudging up the steps and entering it.
***
"Hey, Hon," Joanne called, when she heard the front door open and close. "Maureen?" she called, when she didn't get an answer.
"I'm here," Maureen said, flatly, plopping into a chair.
"Hey, I haven't seen you all day. First I had that damn dentist appointment, and then you had to go drive Roger over."
"Sorry. How was the dentist?"
"It was a bitch. I had two fillings."
"Sorry."
"So how's your day been so far?" Joanne asked.
Maureen shrugged. "So far, so good."
"That doesn't say much," Joanne said.
Maureen shrugged again. "Yeah, well."
"So you never told me what happened when you went to see Mr. Caldwell. Is he interested in your paintings?"
"Yeah," Maureen said, squirming in her seat uneasily.
"Do you know which pieces he wants to show?"
"We didn't really get that far," Maureen said, picking at her nails nervously.
"How far DID you get?"
Maureen shrugged.
"Jeez, Maureen, you're acting pretty weird."
"What do you mean?" Maureen snapped, agitated.
"I mean you're acting really moody and jumpy and nervous."
"So?"
"So, that's not like you at all."
"Yeah? Well maybe I'm turning over a new leaf."
"Tell me what's bothering you?" Joanne pleaded.
"Nothing's bothering me," Maureen grumbled.
"Well then can you tell me why you're acting so weird?"
"Why the fuck is everyone hoarding me with questions?" Maureen shouted, throwing up her hands. "Can't I get any fucking privacy around here?"
"I was just asking," Joanne exclaimed, startled by her outburst.
"Well don't question. Just leave me alone."
"Fine. Maybe I should just leave then," Joanne snapped, becoming angrier by the second.
"Fine! Go! At least I'll have a Goddamn moment to myself."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
Maureen winced as she heard the front door slam loudly, making the doorknob rattle.
"God, Maureen, what's wrong with you?" she asked herself aloud.
The phone rang all of a sudden, as if to answer her question.
Maureen walked over to it and swiped the phone out of it's cradle.
"Hello?" she grumbled.
"Hey, babe. Miss me?"
"Oliver! This is the fourth fucking time you've called me!" Maureen hissed.
"Yeah, so? I miss hearing the sound of your voice."
"Yeah, well I can do without hearing yours. I have a girlfriend, Oliver. I have my own life. Just leave me alone."
"Well, Maureen, you've really got no choice about talking to me. Sooner or later we're gonna have to discuss putting your stuff into my collection."
"Weren't we supposed to talk about that last time? Before you hit on me?" Maureen snapped.
"Hey, you wanted it to happen just as much as I did. Don't pretend not to."
Maureen was silent.
"C'mon, Maureen, admit it. We have a connection going on. Can't you feel it?"
"I'll talk to you later, MR. CALDWELL," Maureen snapped, slamming the phone down.
Letting out a scream of annoyance, she stomped off to the bathroom to take a shower, hoping it would change her mood for the better.
***
Mimi heard Roger come in at around five.
"That you, baby?" she called, from the kitchen.
"It's me," he said, as he walked towards the sound of her voice.
"How'd it go?" she asked, nervously.
"Well," Roger said, slowly. "They did the autopsy."
"And?"
"They saw that Joel died from a blood clot in his brain, which resulted from me hitting him. They said it COULD be categorized as homicide. BUT," he continued, before Mimi could say anything, "They did a background check on him. He has a history of violence. He's been taken in more than once for using violence towards a cop, he did time for dealing drugs in Central Park, AND I told them about what he'd been doing to Daisha, and how he hits you. So they believe that I hit him out of self defense, because they know that him becoming dangerous and carrying a gun is not all that surprising. They questioned your mother, also, and she told them all about how he used to treat you and your sisters. They're saying that it was an accidental murder, done out of self defense. They're letting me off the hook."
"Baby, that's great," Mimi exclaimed, feeling a great weight of nervousness being lifted.
"But I still may have to go to court. They said it's not probable, but it's still something to keep in mind."
"Well at least that's the worst that could happen," Mimi murmured, wrapping her good arm around him tightly.
"Yeah. For a moment there I thought they were gonna lock me up and throw away the key."
"I'd bail you out," Mimi said, winking.
"Meems, you can't bail someone who's sentences for life," Roger laughed.
Mimi stuck out her tongue. "Well I don't know how all this police stuff works. I just watch COPS on TV, but that's all."
Roger laughed, and hugged her back, lifting her off the ground.
"I love you," Mimi murmured, covering his face in kisses.
"Where's the party?" Mark's voice asked, as he stepped into the kitchen.
"Hey, Mark," Roger said, as he put Mimi on the ground.
"How'd it go?"
Roger told him what happened.
"So they're not keeping you?"
"Nope."
"Good," Mark sighed, relieved. "So we have nothing to worry about?"
"I may have to appear in court. But other than that, everything's going to be fine."
"That's great. Oh, I almost forgot," he said, suddenly. "Yesterday Jan called. She was inviting me to spend Christmas with her at with her parents in Ardsley."
"We always spend Christmas together, though," Roger frowned.
"If you don't want me to, I'll stay," Mark said, quickly.
Roger rolled his eyes. "Mark, if it'll make you and Jan happy, go. I don't want to be a party pooper. Besides, Christmas is a few weeks away, and you've got time to think it over."
"Okay. Thanks, Rog."
"When's she coming back?"
"Tomorrow," Mark grinned. "I can't wait."
"Puppy love," Mimi declared, from behind Roger.
Roger laughed.
"Yeah. Well I just stopped by to grab my camera," said Mark.
"Why?"
"Early Christmas project. You'll see."
Roger shrugged. "So you're going back out then?"
"Yup."
"Okay. See you later."
"Bye," Mark said, exiting the room.
Roger then turned to Mimi. "Alone at last," he said, smiling.
"Yup," she smiled back at him.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Ms. Marquez, but I believe you promised to accompany me to the bedroom tonight?"
Mimi laughed. "Do you ever think about anything besides sex?"
"Sure. You."
Mimi laughed as he carried her off and disappeared into their bedroom.
***
"So did you ask Roger?" Jan asked Mark, over the phone.
Mark was at a payphone, about a block away from Central Park.
"Yup. He says it's fine if I want to go."
"Great!" Mark could almost HEAR her smiling. "So, what're you doing?"
"Nothing much. I'm just gonna go do some random filming."
"Marky, the filmmaker," Jan sighed. "It sounds so dreadfully sexy."
"Well, if you think of it THAT way," Mark said, filming a frozen wad of gum stuck to the floor of the booth near his shoe.
"So, I'm coming home tomorrow."
"I know. I can't wait."
"Neither can I. I mean, I love my folks to death, but . . . you know."
"Yeah, I do," Mark said, rolling his eyes. His mother tended to be a pain in the ass on a number of occasions.
"I've gotta run, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"You betcha."
Jan giggled. "I love you, Mark."
"Love you too."
"Bye."
"Bye."
***
"Well. That was fun," Roger said.
"Mmm hmm," Mimi murmured, resting her head on his bare chest.
"What time is it?" he asked her.
"Dunno. Check the clock."
Roger glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed. Eight oh clock. You hungry?"
"Nope."
"Me neither. What do you wanna do?"
"Sleep," Mimi mumbled into his chest.
"You're boring," Roger laughed.
"I can't help it. I've been having a lot of late nights."
"Yeah, I guess I have too."
Mimi sat up suddenly, and slid off the bed, walking over to the closet, pulling out one of Roger's crumbled T-shirts, and a pair of flannel pajama pants.
With her back towards him, she pulled off her shirt and bra, and for the first time Roger saw the gunshot wound clearly without the bandages on it.
"That looks like it kills," he said, wincing.
"What?" Mimi said, her back still towards him.
"You know. The gunshot wound."
Mimi looked over her shoulder and made a face. "Yeah, that is pretty nasty, isn't it?"
"You think it'll leave a scar?"
"Probably," she shrugged, pulling the shirt over her head, and sliding into the flannel pants.
"That'll be a pretty impressive war wound," Roger said, as she slid back into the bed beside him.
Mimi shrugged.
Roger rolled onto his back, and stared at the ceiling. He'd never noticed the tiny dots that decorated it before.
"What're you looking at?" Mimi asked him.
"The dots."
"The dots?"
"On the ceiling."
Mimi raised her eyebrows. "You're weird."
"Part of my charm."
Mimi rolled onto her back, and stared at the ceiling as well.
"Having fun?" Roger asked, turning his head towards her.
"Tons," she replied.
"Instead of counting sheep now we can count dots."
"That's fucked up."
"Yeah. Wanna try it?"
Mimi laughed. "Whatever."
"No really. Try it."
Mimi rolled her eyes. "Okay. One, two, three, four . . ."
Roger closed his eyes and listened to the melodic sound of her voice. Pretty soon, he was asleep.
"One hundred forty seven . . . Roger, this is stupid, I'm not doing this anymore."
Silence.
"Roger?" Mimi said, poking him.
Roger rolled over, but didn't wake up.
Mimi smiled, and laughed, silently.
She wrapped his arm around her waist, making herself feel more secure.
Then she closed her eyes, and in a matter of minutes she faded into sleep.