13
The phone split my sleep. I was unready for the sound, or any sound, ripping open my peaceful bivouac—bayoneting dreams and my poor respite.
I grabbed in the dark. "Yeahhhh?"
"Can I come up?"
"For God's sakes, Paul, what time is it?"
"She's gone!"
"Okay, okay. Where—?"
"Downstairs!"
I found the light. Four-fifteen. Went to the door and propped it open with a chair. Turned on the shower and stepped into it—letting the multiple streams rattle against my sleepy skull and sweep away the salty acids on my body.