Reaching Through The Haze

Four AM.

Something jolts him awake, flat to sitting straight up in a nanosecond.

He could almost swear she was just there tracing a fingernail across his collarbones. Must have been a dream… Their song sticks in his head, aggravating and elusive as an itch between the shoulder blades.

Tries to resettle himself, but every possible position hits a different sore spot.