Akeli nodded and threaded her arm through his, leading him out of the zeppelin, over the enclosed walkway that attached it to the next section of the ship, the fuselage of an old airliner that had been stripped and then repartitioned into living quarters. He looked around at the little touches that made one woman’s door different from any others; the pictures stenciled on the metal or the plastic flowers or beads. Akeli and her mother had made an intricate mosaic out of colored paper which they had glued right to the door. It was an abstract pattern, but parts of it just suggested the shape of a vine or a flower or a butterfly.
“Is this yours?” Jason asked when she stopped to touch it. She nodded. He leaned in close to inspect it. “There must be thousands of little squares here. This must
