"Oh, today," Antigone said, feeling a little of the weight of decision lift off her shoulders. "Another nap, definitely." She tentatively picked up her fork, spearing a clump of the eggs with the tines, and slipping them into her mouth. She nodded her approval at Joan, the eggs were hot, and nicely salted, and comforting and domestic and simple. Antigone pressed the back of her hand against her forehead, trying not to crumble into tears. "S'good," she said. "S'nice."