The bed is a warm cocoon, its Egyptian cotton sheets smooth as satin against his skin. Sunlight caresses his relaxed eyelids. This morning, there’s no racing heartbeat, no sense of being pursued by an unspeakable horror. It’s such a novel awakening that for a moment, Malcolm has to ask himself: Am I still dreaming?
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timeasmymeasure
Double Fill
Date: 2020-07-22 09:40 am (UTC)