Arthur Kramer couldn't sleep.
Not tonight.

Perhaps it was being alone for the first time in quite a while. Very strange. But it would only be one night he thought and that wouldn't be so bad.

But the bed seemed big. Big and cold.

Kramer tucked the pillow right up under his neck, his arm beneath it to get the angle right.

Relax, he told himself . . . breath deeply . . . adjust the pillow again. Better. But his thoughts were travelling at the speed of light. Single images flashed before his eyes like some bad pop video, never pausing long enough to fix his concentration. Relax. Think of one subject. Think, it can't be that difficult. Maybe this is the wrong approach, Kramer thought. Blank. Nothingness. That's better. Clear the mind of all the clutter. Kramer turned his pillow over and rolled on to his other side. He eased his leg into the cool side of the bed and and relaxed. His side was now warm and the sudden cold felt remarkably good. Strange that. Strange thing temperature. Like pleasure or pain we have no memory of it. Whilst lying on a Spanish beach, basking in eighty degrees, try thinking what it's like to freeze. Impossible.

Kramer thought of beaches. Palm tree fringed with the sand warm to the touch. Think warm. Think relaxed. Think of a hammock, the slow swinging movement, the warm breeze all around, the trees above. Kramer felt good. That was better. Kramer could feel hhis breathing slowing down. His lower jaw was beginning to feel looser, not tight and clenched like it had been ever since his head first hit the pillow. Relax the lower jaw he told himself. The first rule of relaxation. When the lower jaw is relaxed, every other muscle in the body is free to follow suit. Kramer turned over again, back onto his right side, his natural sleeping position. He edged his left foot out of the quilt and let it dangle slightly not bothering about the crocodiles that were lurking under the bed. His wife would never do this. From childhood she had this vision of crocodiles hiding there, ready to nip off her toes. Sod it thought Kramer, even the crocs must eat.

He was suddenly aware that his heart rate was easing, slowing down nicely. It bothered Kramer that he had little control of this part of his body. Try as he might, he could never really slow it down. What was it about this muscle that made it different from the rest. An impulse from the brain could move most parts easily, no effort needed. Think of it and it's done. Waggle the toes at one end, blink the eyes at the other. But the heart? Perhaps the brain has some built-in safety device to stop us tampering with the workings of the old pump, a fuse that blows to put a stop to a suicide bid.

Kramer drifted again, his train of thought darting here and there. But slower now. More control. Deeper breaths. Warmth. Warmth and darkness. Sleep was near, he could feel it. Good times are just around the corner.

One last peek at the clock. It was 1.35