CASSIOPEIA VITT STEPPED FROM THE SHOWER AND REACHED FOR a terry-cloth robe. Before nestling her damp skin within its soft folds she did what she usually did after a bath, at least whenever possible-she weighed herself. She’d tested the digital scale yesterday, after rinsing away the transatlantic flight with another long hot soak. Of course, flying always added kilograms. Why? Something about dehydration and fluid retention. She wasn’t obsessed with her weight. More curious. Middle age was approaching, and what she ate and what she did seemed to matter so much more than five years ago.
She studied the scale’s LCD display.