Third person's POV
A few days, George laid still for a few seconds, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling of his apartment, the quiet pressing in around him in a way that felt different from the house he grew up in. There was no background noise, no distant movement, everywhere just felt still and silent.
For a moment, he considered closing his eyes again and trying to squeeze out a little more rest, but something felt off, just enough to keep him from slipping back under. He suddenly smelled something.
He frowned slightly, shifting on the bed as he lifted his head, the faint scent of something warm and familiar drifting through the room. It took him a second to place it, but when he did, his confusion sharpened into something more alert.
Food.
That didn’t make sense.
He pushed himse
