Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Grak
I unfold the sleeping bag, and I’m not sure how this is supposed to keep a person warm.
I fit both my legs inside it, though not comfortably. I tend to sleep on my bed with my legs spread out wide. This bag is constraining and only covers up to my waist.
I lie here in this strange half-built house she called a “cabin.” I think about Ginger. She is so much prettier in person than I thought she would be.
Not that it matters. I already loved her before we met. I would love her no matter what she looks like. Her brain, the way she uses her mouth with intelligence, and her wise eyes. I wish to be with her.
But if she doesn’t want me, perhaps I should try giving her space.
I noticed upon arrival that many things around this humble farm needed fixing.
Maybe in my small way, I can be of use here.