EstherEyes open. Sunshine on an oddly decorated wall, covered completely with print, tiny print—could that be? Esther’s eyes felt sticky and she blinked, wondering if sleep had muddled her vision. It happened occasionally, on the boat; the ever-present swing and sway of water sometimes turned her mind into a warm puddle and she could not read on her narrow bunk.
But the bed upon which she now lay was solid and still. Lumpy, true, but the coverlet was warm. She felt as though she had slept properly for the first time in months and awoke, wonderfully, without the first sensation being a need to dry retch into a porcelain bowl.
And yet, and yet … Esther curled up in the bed and pulled her knees to her chest, as far as they would go. She had barely slept on the boat the night before. Landfal
