Some words

Things remain generally how they should for Ran Thistle. His daughters continue their somewhat steady growth toward the sun and away from the dirt, this wife plumbs and diets, plumbs and diets, and his job pays for all of them, all of them together. So he doesn't end up worrying that much. His sleep ranges from six to nine hours a night. The years settle into their groove and loose themselves in the steady rhythm. So it does come as a bit of a shock to Ran to wake up and find himself naked on a strange bathroom floor. If it is a bathroom. Yes a toilet. Yes a bathroom. So it is odd to him to find himself half naked, down to his boxers really, on the cold tiled floor of a white bathroom beneath Florissant rectangles. He rights himself and starts to unswirl into consciousness. Something is seeping under the door. Two half skinned finger pulse toward him. Ran, someone whispers, Ran? Can you hear me? Ran?