Tracks in the Snow
It's been almost a month since Meredith became a married woman, and though that fact changes a great deal, most things, really, just stay the same. At least, anyway, the practices of daily life do now that the honeymoon is technically over. One of those things is waking up with Sean in a comfortable bed - or, today, sleeping in with him, since Thursday is one of the few days in the week she doesn't have a class or an early shift at the clinic. The room is cozy and dark today, and even after she wakes, it takes her a few minutes of lying with her eyes still closed to start wondering why.
When she opens them, sitting slowly up, the answer becomes evident: the curtains over the windows are drawn. Which would be nothing, except that they don't have much in the way of curtains usually, and while the layout of the room is reasonably familiar, the room itself is not.
Slipping out of bed, she pulls a face, equal parts confusion and disgust as she tugs at the long nightgown she has on, the floor cold under her feet. "Sean," she hisses, heading for the window. "Sean, wake up." When she pulls the curtain back, the view is one she doesn't know at all.
When she opens them, sitting slowly up, the answer becomes evident: the curtains over the windows are drawn. Which would be nothing, except that they don't have much in the way of curtains usually, and while the layout of the room is reasonably familiar, the room itself is not.
Slipping out of bed, she pulls a face, equal parts confusion and disgust as she tugs at the long nightgown she has on, the floor cold under her feet. "Sean," she hisses, heading for the window. "Sean, wake up." When she pulls the curtain back, the view is one she doesn't know at all.