There’s gray carpet. Turning over, there’s the light weight of a fluffy duvet. It’s not particularly bright in the room. There’s some light, light enough to see, but the overhead light seems dusty, and one of the bulbs might be burnt out. You don’t feel tired, but you’re laying in bed. What were you doing there? You sit up. It’s a child’s room… you think. There are sheer white curtains blocking a window, which sway slightly in the wind, letting light pink light flit in through the gaps. A closet across the room is slightly ajar. The bed groans the slightest bit under you. There’s the whisper of a giggle. Again. It takes you some time to place where it’s coming from. There’s the faintest giggle coming from under the bed. This is not your room. Your heart beats fast, but you seem to move s o