'The Visitor' by Maeve Heneghan

Opening my eyes, I know I must have slept for quite a few hours. Sleep, when it comes is precious. 

I'm starting to adapt more to my routine, welcome it even. I never did wear a watch, too busy living in the moment. Mum always called me the flaky one. Said I needed to start taking more responsibility and grow up.

I stiffen slightly as he opens the door. His face is still covered. He puts dry toast and tea on the floor. He turns, bolts the door again and rattles a key in the lock. 

It must be morning.

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