Cathy opened her eyes slowly, trying to find some coherence in her tangled thoughts between her dreams. She remembered falling asleep on a couch, but she was now on a bed, covered in incredibly soft sheets. The room was dark, but the windows were open so she could still see her surroundings in the dim light. To her left was Andrew, sleeping heavily, his back to her, his face buried in the pillow. He probably carried her from the couch to bed, she thought, as she watched the subtle movement of his body as he slept. She clutched the bedsheets to her chest, more to feel the material than to cover herself, and sat up in bed, flashes from that night still drifting through her head. To her right she saw the night; behind that enormous glass wall was the city lit up, crowned by a beautiful waning
