For the sec­ond night in a row, Gil wakes up to the sound of scream­ing. He has to remind myself that this is to be expected, and that this time the scream­ing is not his.

Some dark blue pre-dawn light washes into the tent, so Gil can see her thrash­ing around. She runs out­side, wear­ing only her short dress, yelling and slap­ping at her head.

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