The sun was not yet even thinking of coming up when I was awoken by a gentle tapping at my bedroom door. I clawed my way into consciousness, checked the clock – three am, roughly – and pulled a towel about me to open the door.

I pulled it open just a crack, expecting light from the landing to pour in, but it did not. The long, tall window at the end of the corridor was filled with moonlight, this softer light bathing Andrea as she stood naked, about to knock once more. She started as she realised that I was peering out at her through sleep-clogged eyes. She met my gaze with her own, and her meaning was clear, even to me just awake. I shook off the last of sleep’s mantle and reached out of the doorway for her hand; pulled her gently inside. I took her over to my window and pulled back the curtains, filling the room with moonlight. I let my towel fall away and I turned to face her, the palms of my hands resting gently against her upper arms. For a moment we looked at each other, and then silently we kissed.

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