The next morning was bright, and I was stiff when I awoke, shielding my face as I creaked out of bed. Jo had directed me to a small room up several flights of stairs. I shared my new bedroom with two other women, whom I saw as I emerged from my blankets, but hadn't had the chance to meet last night, when I'd simply fallen into bed before the gathering had dispersed downstairs.
On the wooden table in the corner of the room was a pile of clothes, on top of which lay a scrap of paper with my name on it. I wriggled out of the borrowed night-clothes I was wearing and pulled on the practical brown pants and white shirt. I spotted shoes under the table as well. Someone had taken great pains to prepare for me.
I slipped out the door as quietly as I could and made my way downstairs to face my new life; at last, I was among people like me.