She is watching me in silence for some time, then she is moving to her main room, what she is calling her living room, and she is waving her hand at chair that is too big for me because when I am sitting in it, I am feeling like I am sinking in it, like it is eating me, and I am struggling against it, but Ify is putting her hand on my hand and it is calming me down. The chair is then molding itself around me and I am leaning back and feeling warm and it is pleasing to my skin. Then Ify is sitting down in chair in front of me that is hovering above the ground, but she is leaning forward and not saying anything.

“Do you need to rest?” I am asking her. I am seeing her now, seeing how tiredness is darkening the skin under her eyes and how it has dried her skin, how even after she bathed herself in the shuttle watercloset when we left Earthland she still moved without ease. I am seeing the way her finger is twitching, and I am seeing that her eye is bloodshot and that she is quivering with the effort of trying not to be collapsing onto the floor. And I am seeing that she is not like me, who is not needing to be resting ever. Who is not needing to be eating or drinking thing. Who is not needing to do other thing that red-blood is needing to be doing. Ify is needing to be doing all this thing, but she has not been doing this thing, and it is paining her. “You must rest,” I am telling her.

I am getting up from my seat and I am walking to her and putting my hand on her shoulder hard so she is feeling my grip strong and knowing that she is to be doing what I tell her. At first, she is not moving, then I am squeezing, and hurt is showing on her face. Then she is getting up and I am letting go.

“I will wake you,” I tell her. Then I am watching her walk into her bedroom. She is standing at the threshold for a long time with her back to me, as though she is looking inside and not recognizing what she is seeing, as though what is before her now is not matching what is in her rememberings. But then she is walking through, and the door is sliding shut behind her. I am walking to the closed door and pressing my ear to it to hear what is happening, but I am hearing nothing, not even crying, then I am hearing rustling that I am knowing is bedsheets and then I am hearing snoring.