Neville leant back in the chair, his head reeling. Everything had been turned on its head in less than five minutes. His arms and back were screaming at him, but he knew he had to move. He had to move around to get used to his body, and then eat, and then bathe...
He closed his eyes. Sleep was calling him more than anything else. Sweet, sweet sleep... he fought to keep his eyes open but it was no good. Seconds later he was lying limply in the chair, lost to the world.