Lina turns silent syllables over her tongue like hard candy. The world shifts unexpectedly, she knows, when these moments begin. When she can't stop thinking every thought, every word in her mouth and head, in German. These days, she only dreams in English. All those hard ugly As rush out like fire for oxygen. But in the morning, when she asks him to bring her a glass of water before he leaves for work, she can't get the words out. Turns up the W sounds for Vs and tosses her hands frustrated at the thick foreigness of her own voice. Es tut mir Leid, the German mouth almost shouts. Es tut mir Leid. Es tut mir Leid. Es ist immer das erste Zeichen. Sie weiß. Dieses bewegen Sachen schrecklich falsch. Sie erhält wieder verloren.