The Sleeping Man
The Oak Estate, November 4015 a.d.
He slept for 40 days and nights after we found him. Perhaps he had been sleeping longer, we don’t know. It took me and two of the older children two hours to drag him back to The Oak from the snow where he’d lain. We were wide-eyed, in a dream, anticipating something spectacular as we dragged him up two flights of stairs and plunked him clumsily into a bed. All day and night, he slept. His breathing, invisible. His vibrance, superb. He had no wounds we could see, and our scanners cleared him as clean from disease and infection. I put water and dark bread with beans by his bedside each night. It was eaten a few times, but we never saw him eat it.
