racine and matty lie under a sheet on her big bed. her eyes are closed. there are more wind chimes on the second floor of the verandah, which is off this room, and racine is listening to their tinkling. racine looks over in that direction.
racine's face; he is still rolling, but he is alone. he has just rolled off the bed. he lies there like a dead man.
matty, wrapped in a thin white terrycloth robe, is stripping the bed of its sheets. racine watches from across the room.
an ashtray, full to overflowing, on the rug next to matty's bed. and, above it, matty's hand, clutching the sheets on the side of the bed.
racine and matty are in bed. matty is sound asleep, her back close to racine. but he is not asleep. he is propped up, looking down at her. we've never seen his face like this before. never this open, never so much in repose. she stirs, and then is still again. he touches her hair lightly. she sleeps.
matty's face, her head on a pillow, turned away from her husband, away from the bedroom door. her look is just as intense as racine's. her eyes are focused on -
the alarm clock -- 1:42.
edmund's alarm clock - 2:05. edmund rolls into view, his breath ragged. matty's hand is on his chest.
the alarm clock -- 1:50.
they lie in bed. the wind chimes tinkle outside.