“Six months and you’re out on your ear, but only where finding somewhere to live is concerned.”
* * * *
Lee tried to unglue his eyelids, but they fought his attempts. He gave up, rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. The need to pee felt too urgent. Grumbling, he sat up, waiting a moment before standing, fumbling in the general direction of the door.
He bumped into the wall and, turning away, caught his toe on the one piece of furniture he’d placed there. He’d bought himself a desk and a chair. The only other items were a bed and a clothes rail. None of this fully registered, his need prevailing and his foot now throbbing. Finding the handle, Lee opened the door, and then made his way along the hall, blinking, still trying to open his eyes and locate a light switch. He gave up, making his way in the gloom.
Relieved, Lee flushed, remembered to wash his hands, surprised to find a clean towel on the rail before stumbling back out and down the hall. Sudden light blinded him.