“Oh? You can’t sleep either?”

Anya’s voice was soft and soothing, something your tired mind could certainly appreciate. She was huddled up on the couch, watching the big screen in the lounge.

“I like to sit here when I can’t sleep. It’s better than staring at the ceiling.”

On the screen was the moon, accompanied by gentle waves. For a second, you could almost hear the sloshing water.

“You see, in the upper right corner? There’s a dead pixel.” Either Anya was getting cabin fever, or you just couldn’t see it yet.

“In the back of my mind, it’s always there.” Anya continues with a slightly more defeated tone, her hand rests on her stomach. Her thumb rubs small ministrations, and she looks almost vacant.