“It’s just like you said. The building has a trajectory. Remember?” He lifts up the notepad that he found on Esme’s side table with the GPS coordinates of Gleamwood Gardens. “You found out it’s been moving a half block eastward every day. The next stop is the East River. We have to evacuate. We have to leave now.” “No,” she murmurs. “It doesn’t work like that . . .” She pulls the blanket back over her head. “Who are you to say how things work? We are in a world where impossible things are happening. Wake up and let’s go.”
