There are rows upon rows of beds in this room. 

Each is unmade, with sheets coiled and wadded up from restless sleep. 

The shadows under each bed seem somehow darker than you would expect.  You sometimes catch the faintest hint of motion out of the corner of your eyes. 

In a fit of daring, you feel one of the beds and are unnerved to find it still warm. 

There is nothing else in this room.