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“I . . . I think I need to sit down,” I say to Daniel, but my legs are already giving way. He gets to me quickly, scoops me up, stands me back on my feet.
I see him gesture toward the control room, but his father is already racing through the door, carrying a chair. They both help lower me into it. I’m sweating and shaking, and yet Olga still hasn’t let go of my hand.
Sam motions for Daniel to follow him back to the other room.
“No,” I say, “please.” I reach out my free hand, and Daniel takes it. Right now he’s the only thing keeping me anchored in this room. I feel like I could disappear into a puddle of sweat, and just evaporate out through the ceiling. I need to feel solid. I need to feel real. Right now I feel like a ghost.
Sam closes the three of us back in and returns to the
