I stood on the edge of Vayland, looking down into a ravine. Silver pain pulled at a single point in my body, dredging up memories.
When I was a child in the first house my family ever lived it, my room was next to the living room, thus the television. Whenever I heard the television and no conversation, I would slowly open my door, crouching down next to the floor and slip into the room on my belly. My door was right next to the foot of the couch back then, and sat directly between the couch and the T.V., so if I was quiet, I could crawl up against the foot of the couch and watch T.V. while my Dad lay not 3 feet away on the couch.
Some nights, I would fall asleep while watching. What happened next depended on who found me; regardless, I would always wake up in my bed the next morning, like magic. If my mom had found me, I would get a lecture during breakfast about needing my sleep.
Dad never said anything. I suppose he thought that, between the floor and my bed, I’d gotten enough sleep.
He understood; that much was clear.
When I opened my eyes, we weren’t on the road anymore.