The cold is piercing. Waking up alone is scary. It reminds you of old things, of things that are gone and shouldn’t be back. George still finds himself in your brain. He is comfortable there, ruining your life. He’s comfortable and you are alone.

It’s dark, too. Dark when it shouldn’t be. But your alarm isn’t going off so maybe he just got out of bed for a second. Maybe it’s okay. No matter how many maybes there are, your heart beats fast with panic and you have to find him. You need to be sure he’s here. Just as you’re about to pull the covers off, Wilbur leaves the bathroom. When he sees you up, he looks surprised.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

It’s completely sincere and nothing like George.

Still, all you can respond with are pathetic heaves as you try to breathe. He gets into bed and holds you, rubbing your back in the way that helps. He knows just how to do it because he’s been doing it almost every night for months. Rubbing your back to help you breathe as you convince yourself he’s not his old-friend and that you’re safe.