You knock on the door, giving Lottie time to prepare before you come in for your daily conversations. She's sitting in the same corner she usually is, same old blank look on her face as you clear your throat and announce yourself.

"Charlotte—sorry, Lottie—is everything okay today?" You sit on her bed that faces the corner she's sat in, and place your clipboard to the side. "Is your arm feeling better?"

"Much better. Thank you." Lottie looks at you and smiles softly, lifting her hurt arm to show you how much better it is. She could barely move it without wincing when she got here a week ago. She turns to face her body toward you and looks you up and down before sitting up straight with some pep. "I have something to tell you about my improvement here."

You nod and lean in curiously. She looks at you with a confused expression and eyes your hands. "Aren't you going to write this down?"

You blush and sheepishly grab your clipboard, nodding at her again when you click the pen to start writing. "What do you want to tell me?"

"I had a dream about that night. It spoke to me again. It's pleased with me."