I wake up with my left side numb, my face plastered to a wood plank with drool. The sky is lightening over the foothills. Down in the commons, elders are stirring. A baby cries.

I feel hungover as shit, but I haven’t drank a drop.

As mysteriously as it hit me, the compulsion has eased. I can leave if I want. I swing my legs over the side of the porch, crack my back, circle my shoulders.

Nuria is sleeping. She doesn’t say much when she’s awake, but she was mumbling and cooing all night long. Except for when she woke up and checked to see if I was still...