The room was gray when I woke early the next morning, the clouds having gathered again in the night. And it was still raining, or had stopped and begun again. I lay still, comfortably mummified on the futon, and listened.

Vague recollections of nightmarish loneliness and tears began to creep through the fog of sleep that hung over the city of my mind. Something... I had to apologise to Michael... What? ...The dream... The emptiness... dark, dark... dark what? ... And then Michael... Michael's hand on my shoulder... He woke me up... I was afraid... So warm... He was so warm... Worried... My throat burned... "It's okay" he said... I'd been coughing... Dreaming and coughing and crying... He rescued me.

I had to apologise to Michael.