The bed was comfortable. The sheets were soft as were the pillows. The temperature had been too warm earlier, but he had opened the window to let in the night air which had cooled the room to his liking. But Sleep did not come to him that night.

Or maybe he did not go to Sleep.

For though his body was settled, his mind was not, and memories of his childhood polluted his thoughts. He was not one to reminisce – he had taken great care not to make a habit of it – but he was home and it was difficult not to reminisce when there was so much to reminisce about.

With eyes closed, he watched as untouched memories began to surface.

There was the time he had climbed a tree after being goaded by Lucy, but in his zealousness, he had gotten too high and was too scared to climb back down. His sister had to get their father who, after helping him, chastised them both.

There was also the time Lucy had feigned sickness and made him promise not to tell father and he had promised.

And the time he had feigned sickness and asked her not to tell and she had told father anyway.

And when he laid sick with fever and she had stayed by his side and cared for him until he had gotten better.

‘And when I left.’

His eyes opened at having that thought again. It was not a time he was fond of revisiting, and he only had vague memories of that day. He recalled leaving early in the morning as he knew his father would be awake and Lucy would still be asleep.

‘She never was one for mornings.’

He felt the pit return at the thought of his sister, but he kept it from growing with deep steady breaths and once it had gone, let out a small laugh. He could not help but be amused. He was here for Lucy. He could not find her if the mere thought of her made him ill.

Maybe it was impulse or lack of sleep, but Ellis concluded that a visit to his sister’s room would cure him.