Now that he had to live here, he had acquired a lock for his office door. This was his room, and he felt intruded enough upon without having a space within this sour crowd for himself. He had blinds, but when he lay down upon hospital-issue blankets under his desk he could see people passing over the lit gaps between them. Twice Stacy -- he was sure it was Stacy -- had come and stood at his window. He wasn't entirely sure it was her the first time -- could have been a curious nurse, or Cameron, or Cuddy -- it was blurry and dark -- but then he heard the strength of her knock when she was there the second time and knew it was her. He had turned to his other shoulder and watched the light. Listened to the wind. Thought Stacy had probably been up all night.
Now, without remembering he had fallen asleep, he was waking up. His shirt smelled of the sweating he had been doing in and out of nightmares.