Droplets beaded on waxy leaves, and water trickled in rivulets through the spongy biomass of soil and rot. Pools shivered beneath an icy drizzle, and bubbles rose. In the crescent-shaped pond, the dense bottom layer of fluid suddenly inverted to the surface, trapping warmer layers beneath. And the mud sighed with osmotic fullness. Back at the Roach Motel, CJ found most of the extra-large pizza still waiting on her kitchenette counter when she woke. Barefoot and cold, she stood in her underwear and wolfed down a slice. The two-liter bottle of Coke had warmed to room temperature, but she drank some anyway. She also flipped open her laptop and plugged into the motel’s dial-up Internet service. By the clear morning light, she knew she’d been wise not to invite Roman Sacony into her room. More than once since her father died, she’d awakened to find a stranger occupying her bed. Some brief acquaintance whose unwashed body invaded her sheets. Too many evenings, she had embraced a kind knight—only to find in the morning a troll with sour breath and chin stubble.
