I
woke still tucked between the sweaters, and still, to my disappointment, very
tiny. A quick check confirmed the
presence of fairy wings. I risked a
small peek outside of the drawer, but nothing in the room had changed. The lamp glowed softly, the faded
flower-printed covers of the double bed remained untouched.
As
I emerged from the drawer I realized I had no idea how long I’d slept. The endless twilight had not given way to
dawn—it never did. That hadn’t seemed to
matter the other times I’d visited, but now it left me cold. I wanted to know how long I’d been in this
room—or at least to believe that the clock was ticking down on this fairy
fantasy, and that soon I would wake up somewhere else.
Try
as I might, though, I could find no clock.
In low spirits I left the room, the quiet now beginning to stifle
me. Yet it seemed unwise to make my own
noise, so I flew in almost total silence back to the restaurant, hoping to discover
Marietta this time.
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