I'm living in a room common with other people, several beds in the room, and I have only my bed and a dresser in a corner. I'm talking to a woman who is apparently in charge; she asks me how I'm feeling, and I say that I'm ok, and I'm going to work today, but probably for a half day or something(*). She says that's odd that I can just go to work if I want. I start to explain that my work goes in one-to-two-year cycles, so it only matters that ultimately I get my work done, but the woman has finished her business and leaves the room. The second part of my sentence falls to a couple of small chubby girls coming in to do some housework, who are chatty and friendly.

(*) True to life, I've been sick, but I'm planning to go to work today, though probably a little late.