You awaken to the distant chorus of barking dogs. Stirring to your left, then to your right, you find the bed’s other half cold and empty. The clock’s face glows dimly: 5:34. The dogs’ cries crescendo, dragging you from sleep. Your eyes dart to the window, where Will’s shadow dances on the roof, lost in a sleepwalk. A surge of panic drives you to the window sill, where you climb out into the predawn chill. Reaching across the void, you grasp his hand and call out softly but urgently, “Will,” your fingers curling desperately around his wrist