1408- Plum

On one was a telephone— black and large and equipped with a dial. The finger-holes in the
dial looked like surprised white eyes. On the other table was a dish
with a plum on it. Mike pushed RECORD and said: “That isn’t a real
plum. That’s a plastic plum.” He pushed STOP again.
...

Mike looked around the bedroom with wide, frightened eyes.
There was no plum on the endtable to the left of the bed. No plate,
either. The table was bare. He turned, started for the door leading
back to the sitting room, and stopped. There was a picture on
the wall. He couldn’t be absolutely sure—in his present state he
couldn’t be absolutely sure of his own name—but he was fairly sure
that there had been no picture there when he first came in. It was a
still life. A single plum sat on a tin plate in the middle of an old plank
table. The light falling across the plum and the plate was a feverish
yellow-orange.

- 1408, chapter II