Catherine Morrison woke before dawn, as she often did, not because she wanted to, but because sleep had become a visitor she couldn’t depend on. The nights were long now. Too quiet, too thoughtful.
She lay there for a while, listening to the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional creak of the wooden walls settling. It wasn’t the kind of silence she used to know, the calm that came before a storm or the pause before an animal’s cry.