Chapter 25

           ForyearsnowI’vewantedtofallasleep. Thesortofslippingoff,thegivingup,thefallingpartofsleep. NowsleepingisthelastthingIwanttodo. 

           I’mwithMarlainroom8GattheReagentHotel. Withalltheoldpeopleandjunkiesshutupintheirlittlerooms, here,somehow,mypacingdesperationseemssortofnormsandexpected. 

           "Here,"Marlasayswhileshe’ssittingcross-leggedonherbed andpunchingahalf-dozenwake-uppillsoutoftheirplasticblistercart "Iusedtodateaguywhohadterriblenightmares. Hehatedtosleeptoo." 

           Whathappenedtotheguyshewasdating? 

           "Oh,hedied.Heartattack.Overdose. Waytoomanyamphetamines,"Marlssays."Hewasonlynineteen." 

           Thanksforsharing. 

           Whenwewalkedintothehotel,theguyatthelobbydeskhadhalfhishairtornoutattheroots. Hisscalprawandscabbed,hesalutedme. TheseniorswatchingtelevisioninthelobbyallturnedtoseewhoIwas whentheguyatthedeskcalledmesir. 

           "Goodevening,sir." 

           Rightnow,IcanimaginehimcallingsomeProjectMayhemheadquartersandreportingmywhereabouts. They’llhaveawallmapofthecityandtracemymovementswithlittlepushpins. IfeeltaggedlikeamigratinggooseonWildKingdom. 

           They’reallspyingonme,keepingtabs. 

           "Youcantakeallsixoftheseandnotgetsicktoyourstomach,"Marlasays, "butyouhavetotakethembyputtingthemupyourbutt."