Brig snorts a laugh. "People would say things like that about Scandinavia. They would ask if our winters were super-gloomy and lasted forever. But it's actually very beautiful in summer."

I should show you sometime. It was the instinctive thing she used to say to her European friends: it was so easy to hop a plane back home, to spend a weekend in London or vice versa. But she bites back the sentiment before she can blurt it out. It's still hard to remind herself that that's impossible now, that both of their countries are entire universes away.

She pushes past that little stutter-stop of discomfort. Musters back her bright expression, glances down at the boiling bandages. "These are probably about done. Help me put them up to dry?"