Chapter 11
That week things got progressively worse. The sad melody of the river had become so addictive that it was starting to drift its way into my mind even when I was awake. It was an all-out struggle to focus on any sort of task properly and eventually I noticed my hands trembling as I was trying to cook dinner.
When we finished up our meal I carried my dishes to the dishwasher, watching my knife and fork jiggle about as I tried to keep them balanced on my plate.
‘It’s okay, Lainie, honey, I’ll do it,’ said Aunt Lily, catching my fork with her shoe as it fell.
I slumped back down at the table. ‘What’s wrong with me? Why am I always so exhausted?’ Our supply of ‘upstream’ river water had run out and I couldn’t help noticing that my tiredness had worsened significantly since then.
