Delia awoke hours later, hoping it had all been a dream. The slightly drawn curtains told a different story, one she immediately dismissed, refusing to relive the horrors of the previous night. She got up slowly, suddenly feeling a pang of soreness on her right hip; it had taken the brunt of her fall. She struggled to understand what had happened until she looked at the exact spot where she had been laying. A few wine drops had stained the wood in a streaking pattern. Of course; her clumsy nature had reared its painful head yet again. Instead of the usual shame however, a wave of relief washed over Delia. Whatever had happened could have definitely been a fall-induced dream. She drew the curtains closest to her, the same ones she had opened at some point during the night, and daylight streamed into the studio....

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