The TV flickers in the small musty room. The only sound that fills the dead silence is the static traveling from the TV. The glooming of light and outline of people moving about, I believe it is the baseball game. Grandpa begins to snore in time with the static. Moon light is trying to break through the thick blinds. Once everyone has fallen off into deep slumbers, I slip off their shoes and cover them with warm blankets my mother knit years ago, and place pillows under their heads. I tiptoe up the small set of stairs to the narrow loft with a solo war like cot and look out the sky light at the stars, as I drift off to a world of freedom and dreams.