Aaron woke before dawn the next day, somewhere between the third and fourth hour of sleep — that grey borderland where the mind drifts toward consciousness before the body is ready to follow. He lay still, Sophie's breathing soft and even beside him, her hand resting lightly on his chest, and watched the ceiling slowly resolve from shadow into shape as the darkness outside the windows surrendered to the first hints of grey. The room was cool, the air carrying the faint scent of the lake creeping through the gap beneath the terrace doors. Somewhere outside, a bird called once, then fell silent.
