Michael was dreaming he was wearing a large, heated hat. So large, in fact that in order to fit through the doorway, he had an emergency beacon that activated, so that everyone could clear out of the way.
He tried to step through, but the hat got stuck, pressing down on his head with punishing force as the noise of the beacon increased, bleating louder and louder until he opened his eyes and realized it as the middle of the night.
It was the middle of the night, his phone was ringing, and there was a cat on his head.
There was a cat on his head, and she wasn’t going to budge.
“Get off, you sodding feline,” he grumbled, pushing her off the pillow. He got a kick to the side of the face for that, and uttered a curse word as he fought his way out of the covers. He finally succeeded in putting his feet to the floor and stumbled over to his pants, still wadded up near the dresser. He pulled his phone from the pocket just as it stopped ringing.
“Shite!”
He swiped the screen angrily, pulling up the missed call.
Amy. Amy had called him.