For all of Donnie's calculations, sometimes you just guess the wrong window. Dylan's not exactly a tidy kid, and his floor is littered with obstacles. The path under the bed is a field of discarded clothing, each article of varying cleanliness and odor. The path out the door to the hallway is a fortress of various food boxes, precariously stacked like the Jenga Tower of Pisa. But maybe he can make it through without knocking them over and waking Dylan!

Of course, the way Donnie came in is still clear.

Dylan mumbles something and rolls over in his sleep, looking a little distressed. Maybe he's having a nightmare.