Cloudiness.
Mr. Mortimer gradually awoke, head pounding and vision blurred. He could see only blobs of light and shadows. He crawled around feeling with his hands, desperately searching for clues. The floor was cold. He could tell by the groves that it must be tile. He had no idea the day or the time, he only knew the pain. The pounding in his head became stronger and louder like a blacksmith and his anvil. Each beat of his heart felt like the one that would burst his scull. The pain became excruciating and unbearable. A wave of warmth ran over him, then sudden calm. His last vision was a silhouette, then darkness, then peace.
He could hear voices in the background. Bright light shining into his face. He was laying on his back strapped to a table. He floated in and out of lucidness. Then with a pinprick to the side of his neck, the fog cleared instantly, it was as if he had never been asleep.
He instantly panicked, realizing he was strapped down to an old hospital bed. He looked up and saw what looked like scientists and armed guards. Mr. Mortimer struggled against the restraints, until he felt a soft and familiar hand touch his cheek and heard her voice. She walked around the bed into his vision. It was her, his wife.
"What? You're dead? You've been dead!"
"Its ok baby, everything will be OK."
"What's going on? Why am I strapped down?" He sounded scared, voice trembling.
She reached down and touched his hand. "Release him."
The two armed guards walked up and unstrapped him.
"Don't sit up too fast, you will be weak. You've been out for some time."
"How long and where the hell am I?" The hangover effects of the migraine still lingered.
"I'm so confused."
"I know you have many questions, I'll explain over breakfast."
Then darkness.
