Stretching for the truth this way or that could change the meaning of the narrative. The truth is that after becoming accustomed to the ceiling fan, the first night without it turned out to be a real challenge. Ellie was lying on the bed with her face and her whole body soaked with sweat since the dry wind was all over squeezing her. The small opening in the four corners of her cell's wall was walled off, providing no solace. She used her shirt's thin sleeve and wiped her forehead and her breathing became difficult.
Many hours later, on the second night, she had begun to feel the weight of humidity which almost suffocated her. It was as though she had been dipped in oil and reached utter exhaustion with Ellie's, boiling down alive. There was a dryness in her mouth and every inhale or exha
