Ritchie knew she had woken a few times before. She had vague memories of opening her eyes and even moving her body around, holding out an arm or whatever for one of the medical techs to do something or other. But they were short memories, almost like fragments of dreams if her dreams were ever so mundane.
But this time was different. This time, when she dragged her eyelids open over her itchy, dry eyes, she felt more alert than those times before. She could feel the warmth of the sun on the right side of her body and the breeze playing with her hair. She could see a table next to her bed, dominated by a single massive arrangement of flowers in rich jewelly colors she didn"t even know existed. And just beyond the flowers, another bed containing a still sleeping Moreau.
She looked smaller
