Chapter 52 Katerina

• The papers are spread across my bed like I'm planning to make a thousand paper flowers for a wedding. They cover the blanket so thickly you can hardly see it between the gaps. Stalking around the mattress, I write hastily on the back of a scrap piece I've folded in half.
• My notes must make me seem insane. No one could decipher my scribbles, which have been made in increasingly frantic lines. But I need to write to keep track, and also ... to believe that what I'm seeing is true.
• This can't be real. It just can't!