“Are you getting enough sleep?” asks the doctor, and Eve draws breath to answer. I crawl into bed at eight o’clock, tired out and nauseous and longing for oblivion. I wake up twelve hours later, or thirteen or fourteen. I am greedy for sleep, I want only sleep. I seek unconsciousness like a crack addict seeking a hit. “Oh yes, I think so,” she says. “Plenty, thanks.”
