Free Isobel and Emile by Alan Reed Page B

goes inside.
    It is dark in the room. It is not as dark as it is downstairs. There is a window in the room. There is light from the alley outside coming in. It is not much light. It is still dark in the room.
    It is her room.
    She walks to the middle of the room. She pulls the cord hanging from the ceiling. The light turns on.
    There is a bed in the room. There is a sink on one of the walls. There is a towel hanging on the wall next to the sink.
    Isobel walks to the bed. She sits on it. She does not take her dress off. She sits on the bed. She looks at her room.
    It is what she has here.
    She does not know anywhere else she could be. She is here.
    She is sitting on the bed. There is a blanket on the bed. She takes her dress off.
    She has to learn to like being here.
    It is cold in the room. She shivers. She crawls under the blanket on the bed. She knows she is not going to go to sleep.
    There is nothing else to do. She is naked. She crawls under the blanket on the bed. She closes her eyes.
    The light from the alley is on the ceiling. The ceiling is made of planks of wood. Isobel has her eyes closed. She does not see the light on the ceiling.
    She does not go to sleep.
    It is cold. It is not as cold under the blanket. Isobel does not need to have her arms wrapped around her body. She is lying on her back. She is lying with her arms by her sides.
    She puts one of her hands between her legs. She closes her eyes tighter. She does not want to be here. She has to learn to cope with being here.
    She lets her mouth open. She has one hand between her legs. She presses her legs together. She touches herself with her hand. She is trying to remember what it was like. She is starting to forget what it was like. She touches her mouth with her other hand.
    She bites down on her fingers.
    She wants it to mean something. She needs it to mean something. She opens her mouth. She closes her eyes tighter. She tilts her head back. Her legs are pressed together. Her mouth opens wider.
    She lets her breath out. She is lying on her back. She puts her arms by her sides. She is in a bed. The bed has plain white sheets. She is lying between the sheets. There is a blanket over her.
    She curls her legs up against her body.
    She does not remember what it was like. She is lying in a bed. She wants to go to sleep. She does not go to sleep.
    Her eyes are open. She sees the light from the alley on the ceiling. It is coming in through the window. There are curtains on the window. They are flimsy. The light shines through them.
    It is the middle of the night. She looks at the light on the ceiling. It is from the street lights in the alley. It is coming in through the window.

Dear Emile,
    I am sitting in your room. I know that it is not your room, you are gone and I am the one who lives here now. I know. But still, I want to say that it’s your room. It’s ridiculous. I don’t ever say that it’s your room. It would make Mr. Koch shake his head and sigh. But I want to.
    It only makes sense for me to be here if it’s your room.
    I wake up in the night. I don’t sleep well anymore, Emile. I wake up in the night and I’m lying in your bed. This is when it matters most that it’s your bed. I’m not entirely awake, but I’m not still asleep either. I am in a place somewhere in between. I can’t tell if I’m seeing things or if I’m dreaming them. No, it’s not that I can’t tell. I can’t remember what the di ff erence is.
    I want you, Emile. I am lying in your bed and I want you. The blanket lying over me is you. I know that it’s not you but I can’t remember what the di ff erence is.
    I wrap my legs around it and I hold you close to me. I bury my face in your shoulder. I bite down on my lip.
    It helps me to sleep. I am tired, Emile. I am always tired. I need to sleep and I can’t. I don’t know why.
    It helps. You help me.
    I love you.

7
    There is a suitcase in Emile ’s