POV: Aurora
The smell wakes me before the light.
Forest, soap, coffee. Dante.
I open my eyes. Soft dawn panel on the ceiling, white wall, sheet tangled around my waist. Everything has the strange texture of mornings after something that changes everything.
The other half of the bed is empty.
The memory comes in waves: his mouth, his hands, my body losing its bearings on this very mattress. My face burns on its own. I don't need details; my muscles take care of remembering them. Everything hurts a little, but it's a pain that doesn't scare me.
I get out of bed. I look for a clean shirt, pick up my clothes from the floor. The scene looks more like a messy motel than a maximum security level.
In the bathroom, I quickly look at myself in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes, tangled hair, slightly swollen lips. There's a faint mark on my neck that I'd rather not inspect too closely. I wash my face until the cold water brings me down a notch.
