At the crack of dawn she stood at the window and watched the snowdrifts.

A groggy voice from behind her marred the silence. “Whatsamatter…” A groan. “Jesus, it’s 6:00…”

“… Nothing,” she declared with an exhale. “I just got cold.”

“Was your idea to spend September on Noveria,” he reasoned, yawning and nuzzling into his pillow. Lazy eyes lingered on the side her stolen covers left bare.

A long pause. She shivered, bowed her head and pulled the blanket around herself.

“I let them die,” she mused.

“Come back to bed,” he responded.