“Are you in there?” he asks. Rudely. I bolt out of bed, too fast, giving myself fuzzy brain static. Every time I’m interrupted mid-daydream, it’s an embarrassing reminder that I’ve once again lost touch with reality. I become irritable. “What?” I yell back. “Sorry to bother you.” His tone is testy. If I ever need a rather large stick, I’ll know exactly where to find one.
