The alarm went off at five in the morning.
For once, I didn’t hit snooze.
I reached over, shut it off before it could beep again, and slipped quietly out of bed.
Daniel was still asleep beside me, one arm across his face, breathing deeply.
I pulled on yesterday’s gray sweatshirt, tiptoed across the old wooden floor, avoided the board near the door that always creaked, and went downstairs.
The house was still dark.
Outside the kitchen window, the lake looked like a sheet of black glass.
No wind.
No birds.
Just the low hum of my mother’s old refrigerator.
