The knock came at the connecting wall at a quarter past eleven, which was late even by the standards of two sisters who had been communicating through that wall since they were old enough to reach it.
Sanna was not asleep. She had been lying in the dark with her eyes open and her hands flat on the coverlet, doing the thing she did when her mind would not settle, which was to catalogue the room around her in precise detail from memory without looking at any of it. The wardrobe. The writing desk facing the wrong direction. The books on the low shelf that she did not name out loud. The faint grey line of the ocean on the horizon that she could not see right now but knew was there.
She got up and opened the connecting door.
Meeka was sitting on the floor of her own room with her back agains
