Rough hands are shaking me awake. Gentle hands, roughly. One of Cindy's slight but strong hands grabs my left wrist, the other pushes repeatedly against my left shoulder. I don't know how long she's been here.
Wake up! Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up!
She's obviously back from the weekend, and I'm happy to see her, but I'm sleepy, too. There is no bright morning light trying to push through my curtains. The sun isn't even up yet; Cindy starts work early. Too early.
"Wake up, Robert," she says. "They're back!"
I'm groggy, not quite ready to process what she's saying.
"I know you're back, Cindy. But I'm really tired."
"Not me," she laughs. "Your polys. Your polys are back."
