A microstory.
“You were gone when I woke up, did I just dream it?”
Twenty hours earlier, she would be tiptoeing around his hotel room, picking up pieces of her clothing scattered all over the place, careful not to make any noise. She opted to take off before sunrise with barely any sleep, to attempt an escape from the inevitability of a walk of shame.
It meant nothing to her. He meant nothing to her. So she led him to believe it was only a dream. She wanted to believe the same.
