Sleep and What the Morning Brings

You drift off to sleep with Clara curled against your chest, her auburn hair spilling across your pillow like liquid fire. The sounds from David's room eventually quiet as the night deepens, the flat settling into comfortable silence.

Your dreams are pleasant but fragmentary—something about cooking in a sunlit kitchen, Clara's laughter bubbling from another room. When you wake, pale morning light is streaming through the curtains you forgot to close properly. Clara is still sleeping soundly beside you, one arm flung possessively across your torso.

The digital clock reads 8:17. You carefully extricate yourself from Clara's embrace, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead when she stirs. She mumbles something unintelligible before burying her face in your pillow, breathing in your scent as she drifts back to sleep.

You pull on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before padding barefoot toward the kitchen. The flat is quiet, though David's door is slightly ajar—unusual for him, as he typically keeps it firmly closed. A quick glance inside reveals tangled sheets and two sleeping forms: David's broad back and Zara's slender silhouette curled beside him, her dark curls splayed across the pillow.

In the kitchen, you quietly gather ingredients: eggs, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, and the sourdough bread Clara brought yesterday. You work efficiently, the routine of cooking grounding you after the surreal weeks you've experienced. The transformation, the return, establishing a new relationship with Clara—it all feels both distant and immediate as you slice mushrooms and whisk eggs.

The sizzle of bacon in the pan eventually draws the first signs of life. Clara appears first, wrapped in your bathrobe, her hair charmingly tousled.

"That smells incredible," she murmurs, sliding her arms around your waist from behind and pressing her cheek against your shoulder blade. "Didn't know you could cook like this."

You turn to kiss her, spatula still in hand. "There's a lot about Matt you haven't discovered yet."

"Mmm, looking forward to the exploration," she replies, stealing a piece of crispy bacon before moving to set the table.

Ten minutes later, the sound of the shower running indicates David is awake. By the time your flatmate appears in the doorway, hair damp and expression slightly sheepish, you've arranged a feast on the dining table: perfectly scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, sautéed mushrooms and tomatoes, and golden toast.

"Morning," David says, his voice still rough with sleep. "That looks amazing."

"Thought everyone might need sustenance after last night," you reply with a knowing grin.

David has the grace to look slightly embarrassed, though a smile plays at his lips. "Yeah, well..."

Zara appears behind him then, wearing one of his t-shirts that falls to mid-thigh, her long legs bare and her curls even more voluminous than usual. "Is that coffee I smell?" she asks, making no attempt to hide her presence or their obvious night together.

"Freshly brewed," Clara confirms, sliding a mug toward her assistant with a barely suppressed smile of triumph.

As the four of you settle around the table, passing plates and pouring coffee, you're struck by the comfortable domesticity of it all. Just weeks ago, you were trapped in a different body, frantically completing tasks set by a glowing pink app. Now you're hosting a breakfast double-date in your flat, your girlfriend passing toast to your flatmate's new love interest.

"So," Clara says brightly, breaking the momentary silence, "anyone up for the farmers market later? I heard they've got that cheese guy David likes."

David and Zara exchange a quick glance before David nods. "I'm in. Zara?"

"Sounds perfect," she replies, her professional reserve completely absent in this intimate setting.

You catch Clara's eye across the table and share a private smile. Whatever strange journey brought you here, the destination feels surprisingly right.

9:30 | Saturday 16 August 2025 | Matt's Flat, Putney