Not even the sweet, heavenly, buttery scent that drifted into her room when she woke helped ease the fact that it wasn’t true. She slipped from bed and stumbled to keep from stepping on Mesha, who was curled up on the floor at the foot of the frame. She maneuvered carefully to avoid waking her, knowing how tired she would be after staying out with the moon all night. Stripped of her possessions, she was left with little choice but to raid the drawers. They were stocked with men’s clothing, just as Tyson said. She was able to find a pair of drawstring sweatpants and a tee that somewhat fit. Her process of dressing was broken only when she stopped to admire the three, striking pink roses in a vase on the dresser drawers. Her heart felt lighter when she followed the smell of pancakes to the cozy kitchen tucked behind the wall of the front room. Still groggy and trying to forget her dream, she rounded the entry to the kitchen, only to stop short in surprise. Standing at the stove was not Dawn, but Tyson.
