The morning sun bled through the curtains in pale, sickly streaks, illuminating the dust motes that danced over Jenny’s bed. She lay still, her limbs feeling heavy, as if her bones had been replaced by warm lead. Every shift of the sheets against her skin felt like a reminder. There was a dull, humming ache between her thighs and a lingering warmth on her belly that had since cooled, but the memory of it burned.