5 AMThere is nothing aside from the room you fell asleep in. It’s dark, early in the morning, in that strange hour of the morning where nothing but deep, blue light filters in through the windows.There is that strange silence of house that isn’t yours, a silence so amazing that it has to be the reason you awoke in this room that isn’t yours. You fear moving and leaving any part of the warm envelope that you’ve created in your interrupted slumber. You know that if you move, the cold of the air will penetrate your ankles and elbows and knees telling you that you are not at home, but somewhere familiarly alien.Looking around the dim room, you can’t help but look into the corners where the ceiling meets two walls. The white paint transformed by blue light of a Sun that has yet to rise. You listen to the faintest sound, scratching through the silence: breathing.You remain as still as possible, trying to determine if it is the owner of this room, somewhere inside
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