Danilo
I was fast asleep.
For the first time in months, my soul felt settled and still. Not buzzing. Not wired. Just still. The kind of sleep that actually took me under, deep and dreamless.
I woke up slowly. The sheets were tumbled around my legs, too warm. The sun was cutting straight across my face from the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was that pale, thin Berlin winter sun that made everything look cold even when the room was hot. Outside, the Berlin skyline was waking up too. I could hear it even with the windows closed — faint traffic, a siren far away, the low hum of the city starting.
I didn't want to open my eyes. I breathed in deeply and Kolli's scent hit me. Peaches, musk, and that faint sandalwood oil he put behind his ears that I loved. It was on my pillow. On my skin. On the sheets. Everywhere.
