When he returns, I've moved to the window seat, cradling the cup, staring into the night.
He drapes the towel over my shoulders and sits across from me.
"Want to talk about that nightmare?"
I trace the rim of the cup.
After a long silence, I blurt out:
"Do you know what it's like to drown in the gut?"
He freezes, caught off guard.
"Stools floods the nose—burning, like fire, choking" my voice is a whisper, as if recounting another's tale.
"Then the lungs spasm. You try to breathe, but only more choking. The worst part..."
Joachim's gaze fixes on my left ring finger, twisted unnaturally—the permanent deformity from a broken bone left untreated.
"I dreamed..."
I suddenly rise, crossing to the desk, pulling a manila envelope from the bottom drawer. "You should see this."
He takes t
