Morning comes eventually. The night is excruciatingly slow. Thoughts of Tallulah across the hall prevent all sleep until just before breakfast time. I give up. I ring for room service, ordering an assortment of things with the aim to feed Tallulah up.
When I had first met her, she had been a little too skinny, and our daily meals together had been helping her fix that or at least I think it has. Her hips have started filling out, and she looks like she doesn't need to sleep for a week to get rid of the bags under her eyes.
I knock her door when the food arrives, but there is no answer. I knock twice but still nothing, so I slowly open the door.
She's curled up in a ball around her pillow. Her hair surrounds her like a golden halo. She looks more broken now than I've ever seen her. It's like she's only really vulnerable in slumber.
And here I thought that she had shown me quite a lot of that precious vulnerability.
How wrong I had been!