Status Updates From The Possible World

Finally, a whisker before eight thirty, we are all at the front of Oak Haven, waiting for the transport van.

THERE IS NO knock on my door at bedtime, for I don't require a sleeping medicine. Sleep is my reward for each day; it's where my memories live. I slip into it effortlessly, an otter sliding into a warm current. I long for it so greedily that I have set myself strict rules: two naps a day totaling no more than three hours, and bedtime no earlier than nine o'clock.