I woke up slowly from a dream that receded as fast as I ran after it, then faster. Soft light filtered through the curtains and delineated the sink, the red locker, the blue-painted door, and the floor lamp that had a paper shade in the shape of those extraterrestrial pods that take you while you sleep. The hostel was quiet for once. Warm under a thick feather comforter, I hated the idea of moving, of breaking the spell. But I had to pee. As quietly as possible I slipped out of bed, and looked out the window. As far as I could tell from the narrow airshaft/courtyard, the light looked good, the sky a pale morning blue. I made sure I had my little electronic key nub in my pocket—I checked twice because I’d really hate
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