He falls asleep, drifting seamlessly into his dreams. Closing the storybook, his dad bends over him to give him a good night kiss, then switches off the bedside lamp. He fumbles around in the darkness for a while, then finally finds the doorknob and leaves as quietly as he can.
Outside the window, the wind begins to howl. The boy stirs in his sleep. The curtains billow like a pregnant woman. The boy stirs again. Lightning flashes, casting shadows that stretch across the tiles. The boy stirs one last time. The sky begins to cry. And he stirs no more.