Nobody knew. That was the thing: nobody knew. No one knew about what he saw when he closed his eyes. The body parts. The fiery black pools of oil. The rivulets of blood and water draining away from the corpses being pushed into the open grave by growling steam shovels. Of course it got worse when he stopped taking the medicine. He would stop taking the medicine when he felt better. When he could sleep all the way through the night he would stop talking it. And then the horror would slowly come back to him. He could see it all again and his body would shake and then he would realize that he was screaming and he would stop and look at the people on the street looking at him and he would feel cold. Then he would remember that nobody knew.