[A familiar thing - a familiar creature. He remembers it, he knows, with the sick jolt to his stomach. He remembers it; the only thing he could cling to as real in that maze of white walls. That reminder of reality.]
[He clutches it between trembling fingers - white cloth, soft and slightly scratchy. The same as it ever was.]
IM DEAD i am GONE i am DECEASED goodbYE
[He clutches it between trembling fingers - white cloth, soft and slightly scratchy. The same as it ever was.]
[It's a cruelty, he knows. It's mocking him.]
[He stuffs it in his pocket, and he bolts.]