She knows she’s been ‘here’ before~ a very unsatisfying déjà vu, if ever there was. She’d had one before. It’s dark and it’s quiet, it’s night.   The only bit of light in the room comes from beneath the doorway leading to the hall, the clock face on the shelf & the lit, rolled feature in her right hand.    She stares at the clock face, watching the second-hand spinning ‘round, until her gaze softens, going out of focus, as she begins to flit from one idea to the next; where shall I go tomorrow… WHO shall I be?   And HOW does that person dress themselves!?   The light in the hallway goes out, as does the tiny light held by her right hand.   She looks at the clock face, thinking to herself~ “Guess it’s just you and me, now.”   A world unto itself, the room breathes much softer now.