7
Paternostermakers
Peter shook his head as if to clear the fog from his mind, but only ended up banging it against a wall. He blinked and moved his hands, touching a familiar mattress stuffed with straw and a woolen blanket. He was in his bed, Cune snoring gently in the bed next to him.
After that, he had a hard time getting back to sleep. When he woke up in the morning, he felt groggy. Confused, he gazed at the blues and reds of his blanket, the solid brown of his shoes, the dark floor planks, and the familiar walls, scuffed and gone yellow-grey from the candlelight. He lifted his hands and scrutinized them as if he had never seen them before, the pink tones under the nails, the blue veins on the inside of his wrist standing out, the white edges of his nails. Everything was blurred. I
