There is a narrow berth of floor space between my bed and my dresser that fits my body perfectly. My comforter drapes off my bed and over most of my body, but still my head can peek out and see the glitter stuck on the 1970s popcorn ceiling dimly sparkling in the warm glow of the red shaded 40 watt in the opposite corner. When my bed feels both too big and too small, I like to lie here, hiding from nothing. Or, I guess, hiding from everything -- including myself.