I open my book just as the laughter starts. Great, violent guffaws crashing like lightening from the room next door.
It quietens down. But every time I start to read it bursts out again, making me lose my place. It’s like having a studio audience jeering at me. Mocking me.
Dr Kurz comes in with a pocket full of pills and asks if I still hear the laughter.
I tell him no. The laughter’s gone.
I hate the laughter, but it’s better than the pills. Better than losing months to a dreamless sleep.
They laugh at that too.