Felix woke without pain.
The fact deserved a moment.
His new core held its small, steady warmth. The ship’s tested intake had gathered quietly while he slept. He had not dreamed of a gauge.
Outside, somebody was arguing about a rope.
Not his rope.
He lay still and imagined the cottage shutters.
The rebuilt kettle. The ordinary stove. A chair which did not need to survive inspection before somebody let him put his feet up.
Breakfast without a map.
