He was slower than usual in getting up. For what reason was not apparent, but his mood had changed. The temperature above him felt much colder than normal. Reluctantly cowering in the stained comforter, he thought about never getting up again. Old music washed through his head as if heard from the room above. Blue-tinted mournful music. Like the death of a hero. Outside through the window, negroe children ran past looking for ???? He closed his eyes and tried to remove himself, back to past nights.