His eyes shot open, blinking into the darkness.He drew in a deep breath, his lungs filling as if for the first time. As he exhaled he imagined expelling layers of dust, and after a moment felt it settle back on his face and chest like another blanket. He blinked a few times, wiggled his fingers. Breathed again. He looked over to his side where Erika lay still in slumber. He thought back to his dreams, brief glimpses of light and sunshine, followed by an explosion that covered him in ash. He wiggled his toes. Erika sighed in her sleep, and rolled over. Deep in is subconscious he remembered her stirring a couple of times during the night, but now she lay still, but facing him, her left arm draped languidly across his chest.
He rolled out from underneath it, and from underneath the sheets. He sat on the edge of the bed, dizzy. He felt as though he had been asleep for years, remembering only Erikaâs voice accompanied by her guitar, and the distant smell of apple pie. He smiled, but remained confused. Had he been drinking? No, it wasnât that. Something had happened, and he couldnât quite put his finger on it.
He padded down the hall to his familiar kitchen, but even that felt distant. He wrapped his fingers around a mug sitting on the counter and poured the contents out into the sink. The satisfactory sound of gurgling water came to his ears. He grabbed the soap and a rag and cleaned it out, then began preparing the coffee. The smell awakened his nose, and he stretched his arms about his head, yawning quietly. He slowly became aware of the soft fabric of the sweatpants he wore, a gift from Erika, and then of the cold under his feet. He shivered, wishing that he had grabbed a shirt. But outside it looked cheery and warm, so he cracked a window. It was a terrible idea. He yelped as frigid air hit him in the chest and quickly slid the window shut.
The sound of the coffee maker ceased and he looked over at it. The clock was blinking at 03:52. He frowned. So the power had gone out last night. Shrugging, he poured two mugs of coffee, inhaling the steam, and mixed them with varying amounts of milk, sugar, cocoa, and cinnamon. He took the two mugs in his hands and carried them down the hall to where Erika was still sleeping, though not as deeply. He nudged her, smiling as her eyelids fluttered open to reveal his favorite color, sleepy but bright, and pressed a mug into her hands.
"Good morning love." He smiled at her, feeling happy, as though he had just come home from a long trip."Did you sleep well?"