Antony swiped his ID card at the door to the dance studio, pushed the door open, and all his movements went still.
In the corner of the room lay a young woman. She wore a white sweater and jeans, her face turned toward the wall, long, shimmering honey-blonde locks spilling across the dance floor like liquid gold.
"Hey, you there!" Antony called, his voice sharp and cold with displeasure at the sight. "Who are you? Why are you sleeping in the studio? Don't you have a dorm? Go back to your dorm!"
The girl stirred from her fetal position, pushing herself upright with great effort.
"Seriously, first thing in the morning," she groaned, stretching her arms all the way up. "What's wrong with sleeping here if I can be early for your class? I missed the last session, after all."
Antony went stiff upon recognizing the unmistakable tone beneath her sleepiness.
"You… it's you?" he stuttered, unable to believe his ears. "You're back?"
