A man lies awake with a forgotten box of bones under his bed. He moves pillows, lights a lamp, takes a book and stares at the words. A window near his bed falls backwards and forwards in its casement with a squeak, a thud and a squeak. The fire is low, a single flame is sudden in the dark and not illuminating. He turns down the lamp and pushes and shivers his way into sleep. The bones under the bed are long and hard with slightly porous ends. They're wrapped in dark hair which is dull now, dull with dead sweat and traces of old soap. The teeth are dry but glossy and all are still in place. Scattered through bones, teeth, hair and the white linen threads of the burial dress are polished guard hairs from the coat of a well-groomed winter cat.