“No signs of anything worrying,” he says finally. “Now please sit up and lean against me.”
He helps me getting up from the sofa and go to the elevator. He takes us both into a room, not worse than the Miraton apartment. Something tells me that it’s the lowest standard here.
“You are to stay here for now. The secretary issued such instructions. You may order anything you’d like and go wherever a special access card is not required. For now you must rest and settle in a little. Whenever you feel unwell, please contact me at any time of the day or night.”
He finishes his duty and leave me alone, sitting helplessly on the bed. I constantly feel like I did at a Christmas party a few years ago, when I got a little too drunk, but I’m slowly regaining full clarity of thinking. According to what
