It’s quiet in the hotel room. It’s their second, actually; it’s a much smaller building this time, boutique they call it, and it feels a little bit more like a home than last time. In some aspects, anyway. The art on the wall and eclectic combinations of furniture styles seem special. The empty drawers and uniform linens not so much. It’s a strange combination. Who wants a place that pretends to be home?

It’s just after dinner time. Though Sciel couldn’t imagine putting anything in her stomach, she wasn’t about to send Maelle home to Gustave with an empty stomach, either, so she’d picked up three plastic tins of noodles and beef and broccoli. One for her, one for Maelle, and one for Lune, whenever she gets back from her stroll. (This has not happened yet, so the remaining container sits on the coffee table, getting cold.) It had been a quiet meal, other than a half-hearted laugh about the cutlery situation; chopsticks make for eating a slow but novel experience. They finish somehow. Sciel finds herself glancing down the couch to Maelle multiple times, wondering what’s going on in her head, but she decides to let that breathe for a little before she probes.

Truthfully, she needs a minute to put her own thoughts in order. They keep pressing on the soft parts inside of her that fear they’ll never be in order again.

Why did she go?

But she knows she’s tired. It’s been a long day. It has been for a lot of people.

She looks sidelong at Maelle, smiling gently.

“I’m going to lay down for a bit,” Sciel says. “Maybe meditate a little. Would you like to join me?”