POV: Clara

The morning was too bright. It was cruel, the way it spilled in through the paper-thin curtains, like knives.

Clara squinted against it, the light cutting across her body. Her body ached all over from sleeping hunched, curled up on the couch. Her blanket bunched under her chin; with her knees tucked into her chest. Her mouth was dry, her eyes gritty, her chest felt like lead.

She’d gotten almost no sleep.

She told herself it was a dream for a few precious ...