After a last, stomping pass over both our recumbent forms, the cat finally gives up on trying to get us up to feed her and resentfully jumps down off the bed. I roll over with a slow sigh, and Katie languidly reaches over to her phone on the bedside table.
“Jesus,” I say, “what time is it?”
She lifts her phone up in the dim, grainy light filtering through the blackout curtains and groggily announces, “Ten AM."
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