“That’s not just a line,” says Fred. “I really meant it.”
Back at the Stephenson house, Millie is stacking a breakfast on a tray. She puts a vase of daisies on the tray, but changes her mind and puts the daisies on the kitchen stove, instead.
Al, now showered and wearing a bathrobe, looks at the civilian clothes hanging in his closet. There’s a knock at the bedroom door.
“Who’s that?” says Al.
“It’s me, Millie!” says Millie. She opens the door. “I brought you breakfast!”
“Oho!” says Al, smiling. “Thanks!”
“Didn’t think you’d be up for hours,” says Millie, putting the tray on a chair.
“Yeah, well, I had a dream,” says Al. “I dreamt I was home. I’ve had that same dream hundreds of times before, and this time, I wanted to find out if it’s really true. Am I really home?”
Millie straightens the bed pillows. “Looks like it,” says Millie. “And you’re going to be royally treated. You’re having breakfast in bed.”