The next day was Ian's first day off, and he awoke to the sound of the apartment's door closing as Sara went out for her morning run; it had to be within five minutes of 7 a.m. This was disappointing; he had hoped to see her before she left. He had a sense that he had been rude last night and besides, he missed their shared mornings.
"Of course," he thought aloud, "I suppose I could just wake up earlier. And she will be back in an hour or so." Until then, though, he saw no reason to climb out of the bed; as he discovered over the previous five days, the apartment was empty without her. Instead, he stretched out in the bed, luxuriating in the sense of having no obligations. He loved Sara, and found that he slept better when she was in the bed with him: deeper, sounder sleep, from which he awoke more refreshed. Not to mention that sharing a bed with her meant more intimacy, more returning to familiar favorites, more experimentation, of which Sara never seem to tire. Suddenly he felt very lonely. He ruminated on this for a moment, then rolled over on the bed and fumbled for the Kleenex box on the nightstand.
He was interrupted by the sound of the shower as Sara turned on the water. The front door's 'click' must have been Sara's return. It must be later than he thought – yes, the bedside clock said it was just after eight. Ian threw off his bed clothes and swung himself into a seated position. He could certainly join her before she finished washing her hair.
Mynx sat outside the bathroom door in the hopes that it might open. She slipped through as Ian opened the door, leaped onto the toilet seat and immediately began spinning the roll of toilet paper, spilling its contents onto the floor. Ian scooped the cat up and poured her back into the hallway, closing the door before she had a chance to turn around. Then he pulled back the curtain and joined Sara in the shower.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," she replied.
* * *
Later, as they toweled each other off, Sara noticed the small pile of toilet paper on the floor. "She hasn't gotten past you in a while," she said, tearing off the spilled paper and tossing it into the trash.
"No," said Ian, shaking his head. "It has to have been a few months. I still can't figure out why she only does it when the shower's running."
Sara shrugged. She'd long since given up trying to figure out her cat's idiosyncrasies. She'd had a good run, and a good shower, and now she was ready for a breakfast.
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