S. - Ship of Theseus - Pg 16

 At a table along the far wall sits a young woman of no more than twenty, alone. She is reading a book--a large volume, as this as Don Quixote--in the light from a sconce on the wall behind her, as if this chaotic, drunken hovel were a library. She reads with one elbow on the table, her thumb cradling her chin, one finger resting thoughtfully over her lips.