He crept wearily towards the pile of dirty blankets in the darkened corner, then, unable to move anymore, he collapsed into a deep sleep.
“He died,” she announced gravely.
“What are you talking about?”
“The man just died.”
“Is there something I’m missing here?”
“Sleep. It’s an allegory for death. I’m sorry you didn’t catch on.”
He laughed uproariously. “You’re crazy,” he chortled. “That imagination of yours –”
“Haven’t you read Shakespeare? Sleep is a gentler, more subtle way of speaking of death!”
He rolled his eyes, then turned towards the book. “Look, let’s just finish this.”
She turned the page.
He was suddenly conscious of a faint tickling sensation in his leg. He scratched at it, only to realize it was Atlas, his beloved one-eyed dog, fondly licking him awake. It was time. Those meagre hours of rest had left him refreshed and more eager than ever to complete the burdensome journey.
“Ha! There goes your hypothesis! What do you say to this turn of events?”
“It’s pretty simple” she replied solemnly. “The man was reincarnated.”