LENA She comes to sluggishly, as though surfacing through navigator- colored sleep. The first thing she hears is a twinkle — not hers. Not Thomas's. commodity larger. thick. Wet. It echoes through the walls like a pulsing barrel, shaking the bones of the house. No. Not the house. The body. Lena sits up in the darkness. Her studies feel sutured with rusted line — sharp when she tries to move them. She's no longer trapped entirely inside the walls, but she's not free, moreover. Her perspective shifts — occasionally she sees through her own eyes, occasionally through the house's