he goes over to the bed and steps up onto it. he smooths the wallpaper back up against the wall.
still looking; sweating.
he rubs the back of his head, wincing, as he stares at the page.
looking down at the page.
staring at the screen, dull, wan, and forlorn.
with two violent and simultaneous motions he whips the pillow off his head and throws out his other wrist to look at his watch.
eyes wide, he looks down at the bed.
his neck goes rubbery. his eyes roll up. his head lolls back to hit the wall.
he turns and walks up the hallway, his script in one hand, the parcel in the other.