The power just went out and my digital clock is blinking, 1:04. All I can think about is the darkness of my surroundings and the loudness of the rain. But I know my room like the back of my hand. The same routine: sitting up, taking off the grey quilted covers, and making a sharp left so I don't hit the blue wall that corners my bed. It's only about a fifteen foot walk to my desk, where I keep my flashlight. I walk into a dresser. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I quickly remember I'm not home anymore.