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Now he’s in a bed.

Has to be a hospital bed.

There’s light, but not the cruel we’re-going-to-cut-you-open lights shining down in that green room.

No, this is daylight.

Margie, his ex, is sitting by his bed.

She’s all dolled up and Danny knows that if she dressed up for him he’s probably going to die.

His midsection is stiff.

Stiff as a plank.

Bandages, maybe, and there’s an IV hanging on a hook and he thinks if they’re putting stuff into me maybe I’m not going to die.

Margie asks, “How do you feel, Danno,” like in the old days when they still got along, like book ’em, Danno, and he tries to answer but can’t.

Darkness.