The blankets were rough but warm and smelled like goats. Then again, most of the region tended to smell either like goats or spices. The thought of sp...ces made me realize I was starving and could smell something cooking. There was a bandage wrapped around my head, one covering my left arm from armpit to fingertips, and one I could feel wrapped around my upper torso. Whatever happened to my back, it hurt like a motherfucker, stung, and was tight enough that I was sure there were many, many. There were around ten, younger women there, none of them dolled up like me! Basically in fairly ordinary office clothes. I noticed one or two whispering, but generally they smiled pleasantly at me and looked to the front. Miss Sharples entered the room. She was a small thin woman in her late fifties I would have guessed in a stiff tweed skirt and high collar blouse. She had some wire, half rimmed spectacles perched at the end of her nose, and she surveyed her class over the top of them. “Now. More

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