Actually, it was a knock on the wrong window; but I heard it anyway. You have one guess as to who it was.
Arssi and I had just gone to bed about ten minutes before. I was lying in bed, unable to sleep, thinking about Marek.
The last few days, not only have I had trouble sleeping, trouble eating, but also trouble drinking. If you can believe it. A low, troubling level of anxiety that I . . .
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