The warmth against my body is too comfortable—too peaceful, too soft, too much like surrender. My entire frame feels weightless, as though every muscle, every nerve has finally let go, the tension of the past few days melting away.
My face is buried deep in something impossibly soft, impossibly warm, and my arms are wrapped around it, holding it close like a child clutching a pillow in the dark, seeking refuge from a world that has been too loud for too long.
A soft smile spreads across my lips, unconscious and untroubled, lingering in the fragile space between sleep and waking.
I squeeze the warmth, pulling it closer, burying my face deeper into its curve.
Then I feel it.
A heartbeat.
Restless. Alive. Pulsing steadily against my ear. Slow. Rhythmic. Patient.
My eyes open slowly.
The world swims into focus.
