Thomas was walking down the dimly lit corridor outside his room.  The clomp of army boots slightly too big for his feet resounded in the empty halls, echoing over and over again so it sounded to him like hundreds, no thousands of men walks around.  He wore a dusty lab coat, probably from 50 years ago.  On his shoulder was a WWII back pack.  Apparently the room had been used for some kind of storage a personal effects before it was totally forgotten.  He'd found shoes and robes, pants, shirts, socks, most of which worn though in this one army bag - probably an ammo back come to think of it, as it wasn't the long tube of a bag the army put clothes in - he'd found these boots, a pair of fresh socks, underwear, a once-white (not very off white) t-shirt, and khaki pants.  He'd found the lab coat in a closet with lots of others, the only one left whole.  The old style ID tag on it just had a name, "Dr. Frasure, PhD".  Not a medical doctor obviously.  He wondered...  Had that been the last actual patient in the room, or perhaps one of the doctors had used the room to sleep in during long shifts.  It didn't matter.<br/><br/>Dressed now, old clothes, and old lab coat.  He went through the envelopes in the bag again as he walked, a huge bundle tied together with twine.  All addressed to an Emily.  And Emily Stanton.  All with big red stamped letters of "Address Unknown" or "Not such Number" on them.  Finally, in the bag was a picture, it was faded, he could make out a pretty girl in it, just barely in the light.  Dark hair - or perhaps not, the red light did strange things to color.  Oval face, thin...  She was pretty.<br/><br/>Just another man lost in the depths of his own mind.  It was a good thing he really was sane, the voice in his head agreed with him.  He stopped for a moment, hearing voices softly echoing.  He turned his head and changed direction to follow the sound.  He was hungry, perhaps they'd know how to get to the dining room.  Every hospital had one, bad food was better than no food.  The voice in his head stated very stern and forceful, 'Waste not want not my son.  Do not be picky, lest ye cup shall never run over, nor shall you have the abundance of bread.'<br/><br/>Thomas nodded to the voice, God was right, it was enough.