'Northern Fried Chicken' had seemed a dubious proposal, but it turned out to be quite good. The strange, stressful day was turning into a relaxing evening, but when Tim opened his third beer Sarah asked, "Do you have trouble sleeping?"

He looked up at her, already feeling defensive. He was offended by the idea that she might be trying to dig into his brain. Still, he answered evenly, "Ever since I got back from the desert."

"Bad dreams?" the concern in her voice wiped away his irritation.

"Insomnia," he answered, then conceded, "that probably started with bad dreams."

"Physical symptoms?" she wondered, getting up from her seat next to him. She brushed her fingers through his hair as she went by.

"Anxiety, mostly."

"But, physical. Sweating, chills, heart palpitations, muscle cramps or shakes?"

"Not really. Sometimes I wake up hyperventilating."

"I have something for that."

He barely had time to wonder about the smile he heard in her voice before she dropped something into his lap. He picked it up and examined it in the light and his heart nearly stopped. They were size eight, black and silky, and edged with lace.

She was halfway up the stairs when he jumped up to follow her. He caught sight of the curve of her hips in the dark at the top of the stairs and he nearly flew up to the landing where she waited for him. He caught her there and pinned her against the wall, trying to touch every part of her. They stumbled into her bedroom, fumbling to get their clothes off. He broke the zipper on her dress in his haste. They made love until they were both spent, breaking the spell of the stress of the last week. They fell asleep there together in the dark, the only sound the ticking of the clock.

Tim woke up at 5:30 the next morning. He'd slept soundly, with no dreams that he could remember. Sarah was still sleeping next to him, bare to the waist where the blankets pooled in a lovely cascade around her hips. He got up carefully to avoid waking her and went downstairs to have a cup of coffee.

He paused in the doorway to the kitchen when he noticed his barely-touched beer sitting on the table next to the wad of lace and silk she had thrown over his shoulder. They didn't seem right there together.

He stood there in his underwear staring at that bottle for several long minutes. He walked over to it slowly and picked it up and turned and upended it into the sink. It foamed as it escaped the bottle and a weight disappeared from his mind.

Sarah joined him downstairs when the coffee started brewing. She was wearing the shirt he'd taken off the night before. If she noticed the upside down beer bottle in the drain she said nothing about it, but she did wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest.

"Caffeine is the true way to a woman's heart, you know." she peeked up at him through her lashes

"I suspected as much." he told her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. It surprised him. It had been a long time since he'd felt like grinning.

She smiled in return set about pouring him a cup of coffee. The was something endearing about the small Snoopy mug that she presented him with. It felt like home, and that was far better than nothing.