Marcie woke again, alone in the darkness. Her head throbbed, but the cool of the bathroom floor soothed it. She wondered whether a concussion was affecting her judgment about Darren.

Sitting up proved to be worse. She fought off the urge to vomit as nausea hit her. Embers still smoldered in the bathtub, but the light was otherwise gone. She wondered if morning had come, but only darkness came in through the small window above the tub.

It took a few minutes to work up the energy to climb to her feet and clutch the counter while waves of dizziness washed over her. She wished she had unpacked the stuff for her medicine cabinet instead of leaving it in a box. Just as well, she thought. Given the choice between dry swallowing aspirin and trusting whatever came out of the pipes while her house was displaced,...

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