What am I going back for. I know the answer. I just don't say it out loud because saying it out loud makes it a plan, and plans can fail, and I've watched enough things I needed fall apart to have strong feelings about naming them before they're ready.
The instructor from last night didn't tell me his name.
He said: I know what you are. Three months. And then a junior staff member appeared at the corridor junction and he looked at me for one more second , the look of someone deferring a conversation, not ending it , and he walked away. I closed the door. Sophie said nothing, which meant she had a great deal to say and was choosing to wait. I lay on the cot and stared at the ceiling and thought about what it means for someone to wait three months for you, and whether it's supposed to feel
