Chapter 9
Hank awakened and looked around him, reassuring himself that the last two weeks had, indeed, happened. So much had changed in a mere fourteen days that he fully expected, still, to get up each morning and find his good fortune had been nothing but a dream, a byproduct of hunger and wishful thinking.
He sat up in bed. Yes, a real bed, with sheets and a quilt that slithered to his waist when he sat up. Although his room was still shrouded in a kind of half-light, he could make out what was fast becoming familiar: the white dresser, with its chipped and peeling paint that made it look loved and not old, the rocking chair in the corner, the bedside table with its reading lamp, and the book Ollie said he should read beside it, Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything. He peered down at
