Caroline woke in a feeling of pure, silky warmth. It was as if the sun was giving her just enough attention that morning, as not to overheat her under her comforter. She stayed in bed for another minute, letting her brain shake off the cobwebs accumulated during REM, and then opened her eyes.

The kaleidoscope of colors splayed across her ceiling transfixed her for a moment. The scene she was expecting to she was her off-white ceiling, but this was weird. A scuffling of movement caught her ears and she lifted her head slightly off the pillow and saw – off to the right where her window overlooking a broken-down street – a stained glass window, arranged in the shape of a rose.

She cocked her head, confused, until the shuffling continued and forced her to turn her head to left. There, asleep in her horribly uncomfortable recliner was Edgar. He turned again, a look of pure annoyance on his face as he situated himself. The sound she heard was his shoes.

She looked at the window again.

Shit, she loved him.