Peter woke to the gentle sounds of a soft jazz piano and the sizzle of something rich and buttery in a pan. Consciousness returned slowly, wrapped in a deep, residual peace he hadn't known in years. He was on the large living room sofa, still dressed in the shirt and pants from yesterday. Someone—her—had covered him with a soft throw blanket and tucked a cushion under his head.
He groaned, stretching limbs that felt heavy and replenished. A glance at his watch made him blink in surprise. 9:00 a.m. He never slept this late. The memory of last night washed over him: the race home, finding her curled on this very couch, the decision to stay on the floor beside her. He remembered the profound calm of watching her sleep, the sync of their breathing… and then, nothing. A deep, dreamless void.
