Maya's POV
I woke up in the thinking room at six twelve.
Luca was already awake. Sitting up with his back against the wall beneath the shelves, looking at his phone. He looked up when I moved.
"Aria," I said immediately.
"Still out."
I turned. She was exactly as she'd been at eight. Completely undisturbed. The sleeping bag pulled to her chin, one hand curled near her face.
I lay back down.
Looked at the ceiling.
The morning light was doing something different to the roof-line angle than the evening light had. Cleaner. More direct. The shelves looked more real. Less like something planned and more like something that had always been there.
"You slept on a sleeping bag," I said.
"Yes."
"You're forty."
"Thirty eight."
"Still." I turned my head to look at him. "How's your back."
