Noah did not relax. He remained standing, scanning exits, calculating distances. I recognized that posture. It belonged to someone who had learned not to trust easily.
“When was the last time you slept?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters here,” Earl said gently.
Eventually exhaustion won. Noah sank down beside a folding cot we had set up near a stack of blankets. Within minutes, his head tipped forward and sleep took him hard and sudden, like a light switched off.
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