Thursday
Thursday morning, Stella struggled to open her eyes.
The night before, she had drifted home and scarfed down a can of tuna while searching for the pendant. She had finally found it under the couch where it must have fallen when she tossed it, or maybe Barbanera had used it as a toy. She’d fastened it back around her neck and then climbed into bed to stare at her book, not processing a word, even as she turned pages. Finally, she had resigned herself to being useless and turned off the light, Barbanera standing guard at her feet.
Exhaustion had enfolded her like a straightjacket, and yet she’d rested only fitfully, her dreams populated by whales and birds and bears floating in a funnel shape, as if suspended in the still air, above vivid blue-green water, framed by red rocks. Sh
