My head hurts. It won’t go away. I don’t know what to do about it.

I returned the books to the library. Already I can’t remember much about them. I got the check-in receipt, for all the good that does. Before leaving, I looked at the new books. None of them interested me. What’s the point?

I remember my bedtime stories. Scuppers the Sailor Dog. Babar the Elephant. The Little Engine that Could. I had a big book of trains. I wish I had that book now. I remember some of my favorites. One train I didn’t like was streamlined—modern. Sort of like today’s bullet train. I don’t know why I didn’t like it. I thought maybe I’d see if the library had a copy of that book, but I didn’t have the energy.