Monday morning, early
It had been a long time since Mason had woken to the sounds of a television running in the background. A too-cool breeze danced through gingham curtains, resplendent in pine and the earthy smell of forest floors. The room itself was black as pitch, moon and starlight all but non-existent and Mason took a deep breath of northern night: no exhaust, no reconditioned, climate-controlled air, no pavement releasing decades of human-defiled odours back into atmosphere. It was beautiful.
He dragged his legs out from under the covers, winced as bare feet fell on cold hardwood flooring, and scratched his belly distractedly. It took a moment to orient himself and as he waited for his eyes to adjust, his mind filled in the where and the why of his location—holiday, cottage, Jac
