It was not the dead-tiredness that comes through brief and excessive effort, from which recovery is a matter of hours; but it was the dead-tiredness that comes through the slow and prolonged strength drainage of months of toil.
He lay for a moment watching dust swirl in the chain of sunlight coming through the gap in his four-poster's hangings, and savoured the thought that it was Saturday.
I tried many, many times to explain what a moment like that means to a little girl, a kid watching from the cheap seats as my mom came through the door bone tired from cleaning other people's houses.