She woke up in a place that was not her apartment.
It took her three seconds to place it and in those three seconds she went through the specific sequence of a person who fell asleep somewhere unfamiliar, first the ceiling, then the light quality, then the particular weight of the sheets, then the smell of the room, and then all of it assembled into the fact of where she was and how she had come to be there and she lay still for a moment and let herself just exist inside it before the day had a chance to make it complicated.
His apartment was quieter than hers. Hers had the particular ambient noise of a Brooklyn building, pipes and neighbors and the distant sound of the BQE at certain hours. This was Midtown quiet, high floor quiet, the specific silence of being above the point where str
