Chapter 55: Performance

Keep me away from the wisdom, which does not cry, the philosophy, which does not laugh and the greatness, which does not bow before children. - Kahlil Gibran

I wake entangled in the sheet and comforter.

Vlad's leg drapes over my lower body, and his arm nestles my waist.

Moving my left arm and shoulder, the shooting floods my mind, and I stiffen, waiting for waves of pain to course through my body. But the movement doesn't insight pain or discomfort.

Dislodging his hand from my waist, I slide my upper body toward the edge of the bed.

He moans a protest, but his breathing evens out.

Leaning down on the bed, I move his leg just enough to slide out from under him.

On the edge of the mattress, I stretch my arms overhead.

Rising from the bed, I tiptoe into the open closet and thumb through his dress shirts. My hand motions stop when I come across a plum purple shirt.