Arora's eyes fluttered open to the dim light of early morning.
For a second, she didn't remember where she was.
Her cheek rested against something firm.
Her coat was draped over her shoulders.
Her legs were curled up awkwardly on the office couch.
Her back felt like it had been twisted into three different directions.
She groaned as she stretched one arm, then hissed when a nerve pinched sharply.
"Ugh… great," she muttered.
"I slept like a dead raccoon."
She pushed herself upright, blinking away the remnants of sleep. She rarely slept in her office. She rarely slept at all. But exhaustion had won last night — body, mind, everything collapsing under the weight of too many puzzles and too few answers.
She ran a hand over her face.
"How did I even fall asleep… here of all places?"
Her eyes drifted over the files piled on the desk — District 11 entry records, Jennie's diaries, perfumery receipts, hospital logs.
