The Staircase in the Woods

His body slept, bent into shape around the chaos, careful even in the night not to kick anything off the bed. Like one of his old hugs—the difference being there was so much less of him to hug now—a body hewn of rock, not soft happy marshmallow. She wanted to keep thinking about the mystery, the puzzle, but something else pushed those thoughts out. Frozen still, except for the trembling of his body, the gentle clacking of his teeth.