“Raven is at the door,” Mo intones, looking directly at Robert.
“Door?” Robert asks, mildly surprised. “You said you wanted my
attention, and you got it. Now you tell me Raven is at the door.
What door?” His eyes dance round the meadow, picking out random
details: a rock here, a tree there, a mound in the distance. “Should
I be looking for a door?”
His eyes sweep across the fields once more. “What am I talking
about?” he asks, “There's obviously no doors here.” He sighs,
exasperated at his own failure to understand his situation. “Why
must you always talk in riddles?”
Mo steps forward, gently touching Roberts arm.
“Why don't you try lying down?” the midget says, looking Robert
directly in the eye. “Have yourself a little nap.”
“I can't sleep now,” Robert exclaims, “There's something I
should be doing...” But Mo's hands are insistent, guiding him to a
reclining position. “You really think...?” Robert begins to ask,
to which Mo nods, reaching forward to cover Robert's eyes.
