Marlene, like matryoshka dolls, layered by size, your baby Sarah is nestled in your lap and her teddy in hers. You must have fallen asleep like this, as happens often. Sarah seems to talk more in her sleep than she does awake. But, what she says is often unintelligible, incoherent. A soft snore emanates from Sarah's tiny fluttering nostrils. A mass of white cotton is sprouting from the teddy's eye socket. It's always a shame when Sarah falls asleep in your lap, because you have such a hard time moving without waking her. But, your muscles are aching and you feel like you need to stretch, badly. The room is lit faintly by the constant flickering of a small interior cabin light. The door is ajar and the swaying of the barge causes the door to dance to and fro ever so slightly, sometimes smacking against the door frame, making this metallic clanking sound.
You smell smoke. Wafting in from outside on the deck somewhere? Fire? On the barge? It's hard to tell. You're close enough to shore to be able to smell a campfire or something. Maybe not.
What do you do?