I woke up differently again.
Not in the way I had woken up on the morning after the honest conversation, though that had been its own particular shift. This was something quieter than that. Something that lived in the specific quality of light coming through an east facing window at seven in the morning and the sound of the city below and the weight of different air around me.
The right room.
I lay still for a moment and looked at the ceiling and thought about how the same ceiling could mean entirely different things depending on what you had chosen to be true before you fell asleep underneath it.
Damien was already awake.
I could tell without looking because the particular quality of stillness in the room was the stillness of a space one person had recently left rather than the still
