"Hmm..."
A soft sound slips from my lips in the haze of sleep—unconscious, weightless, a thread of sound drifting through the quiet morning. Sunlight presses against my eyelids, warm and insistent, filtering through the curtains and pulling me slowly, reluctantly, from the depths of sleep.
Something touches my face. Light. Delicate. Tracing along my cheekbone, down the curve of my jaw, across the bridge of my nose.
Fingertips, I realize—brushing against my skin like feathers, like whispers, as if they're trying to find their way through a dream. The sensation is so gentle it's almost not there, lingering at the edge of my awareness, coaxing me toward consciousness.
