I faded in and out of reality and dreams. My sister’s childish giggles echoed down a hallway. Father’s hands lifted me to his shoulders to see the ducklings at the park. Mother spread cool cloths to squelch the bonfire on my forehead, poured warm steamy liquids into my mouth. I opened my eyes in a sterile infirmary like the one the girl on TV seemed to wake up in every other episode. I opened them again in the gilded cage of the Tower Room, unsure if the other room had ever existed.
Once, Tom Hanks brought me a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils and tucked me in for a nap, but I couldn’t find them anywhere when I awoke, so I went back to sleep because what was the point of anything if not even Tom could be counted on. Selene rolled me back and forth to change my bandages several times a
