One day later
I felt a wedding band on my left hand, which pulled me out of a calming, dark world of sleep. Slowly, I opened my eyes and felt well-rested. Positioned on my right side, I rolled onto my back and stared at the familiar ceiling inside the bedroom I shared with Guy. Not a very big room, but comfortable. Two windows looked out over Rice Street, and a reading chair sat against one wall next to a small dresser we shared. The windows were semi-open, and robins chirped. I heard traffic on the street and some chatter from passersby.
I stretched, yawned, and realized I only wore a pair of boxer-briefs. Honestly, I couldn’t remember going to bed or anything from the previous day, which was all a blur to me. I did recall fainting, black-and-white images, four pastors, but couldn’t put
