He opens his eyes, feeling like the man with a full-time job that got two hours of sleep on a Sunday night. Feeling the mattress sink under him, he forces himself to sit up and look around. His room seems normal, but something is definitely not right. The lamp is in the usual place, by the bed. The bookshelf, too. His desk has the same oaken chair, and the hamper is overflowing with his attire from the last week. Offhandedly telling himself to do the laundry, his eyes continue to travel around the room, finally falling on the nightstand. “What’s this?â€