Elinburge, Santonia.
He was in a very ventilated room—having about five big windows. The bed he laid on was very comfortable, the bedspreads were neatly arranged, all having very friendly fragrances. The ancient-looking room brought old memories to him, memories of sleeping in different hotel rooms, changing “accommodations” almost every week. He kicked those memories away, threw them back to wherever they came from. His eyes felt so heavy, his shoulders numb, and his head ached badly. The room brought different memories to Layton, some he hadn't thought still resided in his head. Memories of his mother, the way she sang and hummed joyfully anytime they rented a new suite or booked a fancy hotel, and that were always as often as four or five dozen times a year.
He actually found it quit
