He woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in his life, the strangest moment of all, when he didn't know who he was. Far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of old wood, and footsteps somewhere far in the distance, and all the sad sounds, and he looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who he was for about fifteen strange seconds. He wasn't scared though; he was just somebody else, some stranger, and his whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.
