Tom woke to the ceiling.For three disorienting seconds, he stared at the textured plaster six inches from his nose before his brain caught up with his body. The duvet had slipped off during the night, pooling on the floor below him, and he'd drifted upward like a balloon released from a child's hand.Again.He grabbed the headboard and pulled himself down, his fingers cramping around the wooden post. His alarm clock read seven-fifteen, the red numbers glowing accusingly in the grey morning light filtering through his curtains. He'd overslept.