'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.