Since my admission, Leona has been silent and I don’t like it. I thought she was going to yell at me, laugh and not take me seriously, tell me I’m just a jerk. I had imagined dozens of scenarios but not the one where she didn’t say a word. She stood up, walked down the aisles of the cellar for a while. I saw her shake her head several times, but she didn’t speak to me.
I haven’t moved. I just watch her. I tell myself that in the end, to be locked in this cellar, it’s almost a blessing. I knew she might panic the day I told her what I was thinking. Here at least she has nowhere to go. She’s going to have to talk to me eventually. We still have a bunch of hours to spend here, and I’m not sure we can get much sleep. The ground is freezing, the air is humid. It’s cold.
Leona has collected so
