Dawn finally arrives in a lackluster easing of the darkness, the skies outside carpeted in clouds. A steady wind blows from the sea, carrying the inescapable scent of salt and fish with it, the sound of gulls calling overhead. I sit at the room’s little table and listen to the rumble and clatter of the city waking up, the shutters cracked open, until Lirika rouses herself once more.
Just as she did last night, she watches the hall while I use the washroom. By the time we return to our room, I’m aware of all the various stiff muscles in my back and legs. I sink down on the cushion, glancing surreptitiously toward Lirika as she tidies away her sleeping mat.
My foot aches, the muscles too tight. I spend a moment wishing Lirika were somewhere else so I could massage it—or that I had thought
