Go back to sleep. Maybe this will make more sense in the morning

Minutes pass as you wrestle control of your racing pulse.

The question isn't what do you do, it's what can you do. It's the middle of the night, it can't be past 4 in the morning. Whatever is happening to you, whatever it is the gods want from you - wow that sounds dumb - you're not going to be able to wrap your head around it running around half-assed. No, the best course is to finish the night resting up so you can tackle the situation with a full ass in the morning.

You let out a groan and lie back in bed. But Cupid? Seriously? This is insane. Are you insane? You shake your head and shift back onto your stomach, nestling back under your blankets. You hug your pillow to yourself - the cooling, pliant material forms to your face - and a sigh of fatigue escapes you, and you do your best to calm your troubled mind.

Why this is happening, what even is happening, you **** yourself to let the questions go for tomorrow, and hope this whole mess makes more sense in the morning.

The sun's morning rays stream through the window and wake you far before your alarm can. Even half-conscious with your eyes unopened, you recognize that something's... off. It takes a minute to place what it is.

It's Monday. You don't have to go into the office till noon, so you haven't slept too late. And your phone alarm should have gone off before then, and you remember plugging it in last night. So that's not it. It's quiet outside, without the sound of pattering rain, storming wind, or buzzing lawnmowers, so it shouldn't be anything in the neighborhood that's woken you up. Yet something undeniably feels different.

It's something in the room. Something closeby. Your blankets and bed are warm and cozy, and you're still in an optimal sleep position, with your arms wrapped around your comfortable memory foam pillow. Except...

Your pillow takes up more room in your arms than it usually does. Did it get twisted to the side while you were asleep?

Blinking groggily, you push yourself up. When you go to wrestle your pillow back into position, however, instead you come face-to-face with a lightly dozing woman. Your pillow is nowhere to be found.

Your brain reboots. With the strange woman sleeping in a distinctly uncomfortable-looking L position at the top of the bed, you realize you weren't sleeping with your arms wrapped around your pillow, you were sleeping with your arms wrapped around this girl's waist, with your face tucked against her stomach.

You're too shocked to panic. Before you recover and freak out, the woman stirs. She gives a gaping yawn and stretches violently before reluctantly cracking open her eyes.

"Why're you up? Alarm didn't go off yet," slurs the stranger in a sleepy voice, a troubled look on her face.

For the first time, you actually look at your uninvited bedmate. The slender woman wears a simple white shift dress, short and sleeveless with navy blue seams and a subtle diamond pattern texture woven throughout. The shift showcases her petite size and shape, as if specially designed to do so. Her face is partly shrouded in a messy bedheaded bob of platinum blonde hair.

Awareness begins to take root, and cold concern takes control. "Who are you?"

"What kind of question is that?" asks the stranger, confused. She sits up and rubs her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"Answer the question or I'll call the police. Why are you here?"

The woman pouts, looking hurt. "Where else would I be? I'm your pillow."

The world grinds to a halt. The girl's short checkered dress - it's the exact same style as the case of your Tempur-Pedic memory foam pillow. Understanding clunks into place.

Last night. Cupid. The boon. Pygmalion's Touch.

Life and beauty will be granted anything you touch

The final thing you recall before falling asleep last night was tucking into your pillow, like you always do. You must've held it all night.

Your touch turned your pillow into a person.

You brought your pillow to life.

Your newly living, breathing, female memory foam pillow takes in your bewildered face with concern.

With a sympathetic expression, she settles back against the headboard and pats her stomach. "Why don't you come back to sleep," she says. "I'm softer than I look."

Agog, you barely register the anthropomorphized pillow's words. This can't be real, and yet here you, the two of you, are.