Sawyer sat up in bed. He had trouble breathing, skin sweat drops. Again this hideous dream, as if he was locked in a dark, cool closet. He was then very young, but always remember evil aunt's face, narrow door slams behind him. A little calmer, he threw back the sheet and dressing went into the kitchen. Through the window I streamed the moonlight. Sawyer took out of the closet a glass of cold water poured into his mouth and knocked. Then he went to the nook where the dining table stood, and sat for a long time, staring into the darkness. It was almost dawn. Soon it will be necessary to go to the office.
The Games Must Go on
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