She’d slept fitfully, plagued by anxious dreams in which Olive wouldn’t accept her phone calls or texts and had apparently changed her number altogether. In typical dream fashion, everything had shifted and she found herself lost at the farmers’ market, walking down endless rows of stalls looking for Olive and her father and always coming up empty. Then, back to her apartment, where the police had knocked on her door to deliver the message that Olive didn’t want to talk to her and, in fact, absolutely hated her, and also that she was being sent to prison for being a terrible person. Then suddenly she was in prison, and Erato was her jailer…and so on, and on, and on until Kate couldn’t stay in bed any longer. She’d asked Erato to move into the guest bedroom after their discussion the night before, as cordially as possible, and had been relieved when her wishes were readily honored. As she scanned the final paragraphs of yesterday’s efforts, making minor corrections along the way, she half listened to Erato walk around her new accommodations.
