Do the impossible. Wait some more.

She was sneezing. She was shivering. There was no sign of it ever going to achieve anything. But the sunk costs were weighing Inga down to her bed. It was easier when it was convincing herself into a semi-reasonable hypothesis. Now it was coercing herself into a **** delusion. That making a move is going nowhere and going nowhere is the only real way to get somewhere.

At one point, she just started sobbing. The tears felt hot, running down her cheeks, before cooling down to neutral temperature by the time they reached her neck. When her back leaned on the wall in utter despair, she expected it to be ice cold, but it was only mildly cool, and softer than she thought. It did not even feel right. Was she not supposed to only get the worst with nothing in between?

This was the breaking point. Clearly, nothing was happening on its own, and yet this all could not be for nothing. Coming to a conclusion could be a result. Inga could suffer much more than that. She sure could. And she would become stronger in the end. The more suffering, the more strength.