Long ago she dreamed a dream. All those hopes of summer nights were vanished now, mangled beyond recognition, carcasses beset by vultures.

She was adrift now, one soul in an endless sea. A hand reached out, anchoring her and momentarily bringing her back down to earth. Back to coarse but clean sheets, a lumpy cot, and a voice – a kind voice.

Cosette could yet dream – and perhaps, just perhaps, make dreams a reality that could never be torn asunder.

A thousand emotions – fear of the unknown, familiar shame, a strange breed of bittersweet happiness. Hope, however, above all else.

Fantine could no longer hope for herself. But she could with all her heart for her daughter. Her anchor slipped away and she sailed on.

She slept.