POV: Clara

Clara hunched cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on her thighs, the screen’s glow casting shadows over her drawn face. Her hair was damp from the shower she took to scrub away the dream, but it hadn’t helped. She still felt him. Smelled him. Pulsed with the aftershocks of what her body had betrayed her with.

“Stress,” she murmured, fingertips flying across the keyboard. “Hormones. Trauma.”

She scoured page after page of psychology forums, ...