He wouldn’t need to set an alarm to wake up, whatever he had dreamed of during the night, he could sleep comfortably. His eyelids would open with the command of his body, which finally had decided that he have had enough rest, and he would got out of bed as soon as he regained consciousness. Although he himself did not know how many years he had been like this, he would consider everything normal. He would go to the bathroom as soon as he got out of bed and then take a warm shower to come back to his senses. That's exactly what he did that morning. He went out as soon as his bathing was finished, and returned to the room with his underwear he hadn't changed in the last five days and the white shirt he used to wear in summer he had put on. Here, he put on his dry-green colored, hard fabric trousers with plenty of pockets and wear the blank tag on his neck, which he took from the small closet next to the bed. It was empty because he wore it just so his skin could touch the cold metal, and it was one piece so that it wouldn't make a sound. If his shirt’s color were the same with his trousers’, someone who saw his shapely body and the tag, which was appearing from this shirt that widened by his chest as if it wanted to escape, would have thought that he was or had used to be a soldier. They weren't exactly wrong of course, but he was so much more than that.