Frida woke up to a bright, sunny morning. Laz was still deep asleep beside her, and she stared at him.
This time, she didn't have to hurriedly wake him up to run home.
It was nice to just be next to him, to feel safe with him by her side.
She shifted closer to him and closed her eyes. If she could preserve any moment forever, it would be this one, because being here, in this moment, was peace.
But soon, sleep pulled her into its troubled, grasping darkness. She struggled and kicked against the bed as it slowly pulled her in, sinking her deep into the sheets.
They closed over her face, suffocating her, sucking out her air.
"Welcome," said a voice. It was her voice... only she hadn't spoken a word.
She opened her eyes, and sitting opposite her was herself. Only it wasn't her.
Her legs were crossed confidently, her chin held high, her eyes darker than hers. Although they had the exact same face, this was an entirely different person.
