She woke herself up with a sneeze and quickly looked over to his side of the bed. She needn't have bothered; he was snoring like a jet engine winding up for takeoff.

She slid out of bed and quietly padded to the bathroom. She watched herself in the mirror blowing her nose. She threw the tissue out of instinct in the general direction of the wicker waste basket and sank it right in. All the while she stared at the unmade-up face, the wrinkles softened by a Home Depot nightlight plugged in just to the left of the sink.

The man of her dreams wouldn't bother with the woman she saw there. The man of her dreams wouldn't take her upstairs to a glassy walled bedroom, wouldn't kiss her hand; he wouldn't murmur love notions into her ear.