“Let's give you a warm welcome,” I said, walking toward the compact, sleek espresso machine that now sat on the countertop. The sheer luxury of real coffee felt like a defiant act against the wilderness. I peeled the plastic wrapping off the instructions, a complicated fold-out diagram of pressure and steam valves. Levi moved toward me, clearly intending to take over.
“Let me do it,” I told her, holding up a hand. My tone was firm, surprising even myself. For the past month, I had been operating in a fog of learned helplessness, but that fog was lifting. “I want to learn. We don't know how many days I will stay here, and we certainly don't know when I will have to run again. I need to learn everything I need to know to survive and manage on my own. I can’t be dependent on anyone.”
Lev
