Shannon sat up, her eyes wide open. She wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep. She looked around the room (dirty socks, cat puke in one corner, empty Miller cans, a laundry basket filled with clean clothes) and wished it was all unfamiliar. She looked at the man next to her. His back was smooth and tanned. A tiny mole winked at her from his left shoulder blade. She wished he was a stranger.
Shannon lay back down. The pillow was damp with sweat, her sweat. Had she been dreaming or coming out of a fever?
"Where are you going?" he mumbled. He always knew when she was awake. He had an uncanny way of sensing her uneven breathing even when he was passed out.
"Nowhere. Go back to sleep." She slipped one foot out of bed. "Go back to sleep, sweetie." The other foot landed on a sticky cough drop.
The bathroom light was harsh. Her hair was stringy, her caramel colored eyes were yellowish, her lips chapped and peeling.
"What are you doing?" He was at the door of the bathroom.
"Nothing. I'm doing nothing." She said it to her reflection. She didn't look at him.