A couple of nights ago, I crawled into bed as I normally do.  My wife and I were reading, despite the fact that we were both exhausted.  I’m in the middle of Border Crossing by Pat Barker, author of one of my all-time favorite books, Regeneration. This is what I read:

ELEVEN

At six, Tom gave up trying to sleep, pulled on a tracksuit and trainers, and let himself out of the house.  The river was smooth as glass, but as the sun rose the wind sharpened, flicking the brown water into little skips and bursts of foam.  He loved this: the smell of the sea on the dawn wind, the city, with its precipitous streets tumbling down the hillside, silent in the clear air.

I paused and thought for a second, “You know, I’m really tired.  Maybe I should save this for tomorrow.  And yet…I’m wide awake!  I can at least read a few pages until I fall asleep.”  So, of course, I continue.

He jogged past the empty warehouses………………………………………………….  ……. ………….. ……….. …………. …………… …………….. ……………….. ……………….. …….. …… ………….. .    .. … …………. …… ……………. …………. ….on her answering machine……… ………… ……. ……… ……………. ……………….

[no longer words, but moving images] And then I turned the corner and saw two, no three zombies in close quarters.  Not quite a horde, but enough that I wasn’t sure I could handle them alone.  I checked my clip.  Four rounds. Crap.  I better make them count.  I whirled around the corner and-

………………………………………………………[hunk].. on a train and gone down to see her meant he thought so too.

“Damn.  I guess I’ll have to start the chapter over tomorrow.”  I turned out the light and went right to sleep.