The numerals danced and blurred before his still hazy vision. He yawned, frowned at some nameless, nagging thought that hovered dreamlike on the outer fringes of consciousness, and then focused again on the clock. Nine twenty-six. Too late to meet Elleny. Elleny. The nameless thought took a definite form as he twisted up in bed to gaze at the emptiness beside him. Gone. Of course. In a misty corner of recent memory he recalled her whispered goodbye, felt the fleeting farewell of her kiss before the dreams had closed around him again. It had been daybreak then. It was full morning now, and she would be already at the bookstore. He lay back against the sheets, rested his arm on his forehead, and remembered the night. It had been beautiful. Better than anything he had known in years. Maybe ever. And yet…. With a low groan of impatience he swung his feet to the floor and sat, head in his hands, on the edge of the bed. Why did morning always bring qualifications? Those important, intrusive little details that seemed somehow unimportant when the sun set.
