"Kafka," Cam said when he saw what I'd been reading.  "Not exactly comfort food."

I'd just started The Trial.  I'm sure it's supposed to be scary, but to me it seems, I don't know, funny.  I mean, one morning instead of breakfast in bed from your landlady, some strangers come in and tell you you're a criminal.  They can't tell you what you did or what's going to happen to you, but you can forget about those eggs.

I like it.

He still looked worried, and I added, Do you not want me to read it?

"I just thought you might want something a little more chipper," he said.  "All things considered."

There didn't seem to be any way of explaining that, all things considered, this was chipper.

Pick something for me, I said.  Something you like, so we can talk about it.

"I'm not the boss of you, honey," he said.  "I want you to do what you want.  That's my goal."

What if what I'd like to do is what you'd like me to do?

He kind of laughed. "That doesn't count."

I'm starting to dream again.  

It's been a while.   

Before I got out, I had too much stuff in my system to dream.  Sleep was strange and muddy, but I wouldn't call it dreaming.

After I got out, I wasn't sleeping often or long enough to have time for dreams.  

And then for the first few nights here, I was still making sure I was safe.

It's been pretty quiet so far, but I can feel something muttering around the edges.  

Maybe nothing will come of it.  

I hope I don’t wake Cam up.

Cam's place is little, and he has a lot of books.  I like that all the books aren't about the same thing.  Most people only have books on one or two subjects, and then whatever they have left from school that they didn't sell or throw out.

But Cam's books are great, and you never know what you're going to find.  I sat down with this great story today, about an animal in its burrow for the winter.  I just finished it, and I don't even remember one thing about it.  It was just cozy.  I wanted to crawl in and live there.

I'm starting to feel that way now.  Starting to feel safe.

Well, ready to feel safe, at least.  It’s not quite the same thing.

Cam is just enough bigger than me that I can wear his clothes without its being completely ridiculous.  The jeans are fitting a little weird now -- I've gained some weight -- but everything else is fine.

"Thanks," he said when I came out of the bathroom, and he smiled.  

There was coffee brewing.  I didn't have any, but I like the way it smells.

I want to start getting up before Cam.  Not just to hog the shower.  I want him to wake up to coffee.  He's a very healthy person in pretty much every way, but he really needs caffeine first thing in the morning.  Every day it takes him about fifteen minutes to figure out how to make his coffee, even though he's had the same coffee maker for a long time and he uses it every morning.  Once he's had even a sip he's okay, he can really rattle through the morning and do whatever he needs to.  He might have a little more coffee in the afternoon, but that's just for fun. He doesn't require it.  It's just that first shot in the morning.

I'll make it for him tomorrow.

This morning I used up almost all the hot water.  I was in the shower and it was such a comfort.  The water, of course, but mostly just knowing I didn't have to move or leave or worry about who might be waiting for me.  It felt so clean and good.

Poor Cam was nice about it.  "You ever coming out of there?" he hollered over the water noise and steam.

Apparently not.

"I need to destinkify before class," he said.  "It's too damned hot today to wear the anti-smell-ray sweater."

Five more minutes.

"Honey, come on. I don't want to be late."

Two?  But I turned off the water and started drying off.  

My own towel.  Soft.  

Cam's mom gave him a stack of nice ones when he moved out on his own, and a package of those soaps shaped like little fruits and a special bowl to put them in.  They're pretty dusty now.

I'll clean them today.

How do you clean soap?  If you wash it, it just leaves.

I'll figure something out.  I want to do something for Cam.  

Not that he cares about how his soap looks.  

Two hours, again.  But it felt a little easier today.  Dumber, but easier.

I've wanted to do this for so long -- talk -- and now that I finally can, the words keep skittering away from me, as if they're as scared as I am.

Cam wants me to do this.  He says it's important, and not just to me.  He never pressures me, but he's given me so much, I can't just say no. Not when it's something that ought to be so easy.  And even if it's hard, I have all the time in the world to figure it out.

It's so weird to be free.

I feel so blank.  I wake up and just have no idea what to do.  

Physical necessities are a relief, but they can only take me so far.

It's still hard to eat.  Things taste strange. And I never know what I want to have.

It's not so bad when Cam's here.  He makes breakfast, whatever he feels like having, and I have that too.  He never asks what I want, which is nice.

But most of the time he's at school or at work, and I have to figure things out for myself.

Okay, this has taken me almost two hours to write.  That's just plain humiliating.  But no one can say I didn't try.  

Cam, if you're reading this, I'll do more tomorrow.