Robert clutches at
himself, keeping his eyes tightly shut. He can't be back here, not
after all he went through. He must've gone mad or be hallucinating
and when he opens his eyes it'll be different and God he needs to
breathe, yes breathe, not think about where he is or how he got here
or how long it took or what he went through but breathe, yes breathe.
He concentrates on his
breathing, forcing himself to focus, struggling to make himself take
long, drawn out breathes, releasing them slowly, thinking of nothing
but breathing in and out.
Slowly, gradually,
Robert manages to calm himself. His breathing is regular and his
mind relaxed when he hears a dog bark in the distance and a child
laugh and shout “Bad boy Banjo!”
