Before Max opened his eyes, he spent a few moments lying under the covers, doing what he called "savouring". He'd never needed an alarm. All his life, his body knew when it was time to rise. His mother found this trait especially odd and even resented it a little, given that she longed to inflict on him the same jolting announcement her mother had dumped on her every morning: "Hurry up, you're late! It's nearly eight o'clock. Time for school." Max was always awake before she got there, and greeted her with a smile, which annoyed her no end.
It was still his habit to smile on waking, despite the fact that he was long past his school days. And this morning was no different. He could hear the house warming up in the winter sun, popping and creaking as it shook off last night's cold. There was a swoosh of wings past his window as the birds gathered for their morning meeting on the lake. He squinted at the clock on his nightstand and sat up with a start. He'd overslept by two hours. That never happened. Panic pooled in a cold sweat on the back of his neck. He slumped under the covers and let the thought he'd been resisting surface.
Her.
