I was sleepy and felt tired and sore, but I didn’t want to sleep. My right shoulder felt like it was burning and the throbbing beneath the bandages was driving me crazy, but my eyes were wider open than ever. As if someone had injected three liters of coffee straight into my veins—or the equivalent in Red Bull cans. Oh, post-traumatic stress, I truly hadn’t missed you. It wasn’t that I hadn’t slept much in the last few days; it was that I’d slept very badly. Once. I had spent the previous night in the kitchen with the whole group, listening to the debate about the cats’ hideout. The team left to do their reconnaissance a couple of hours before dawn. Then I don’t clearly remember what happened, and later I decided to bathe Sasha, and then the sun came up and everything else happened…
Sitti
