Lying in bed next to Christina, listening to nothing but her weird semi-snores, left Danny uneasy. There was no noise permeating the walls of the renovated one story ranch, just purchased by the soon to be (once again) Castellanos. No taxis beeping, no drunk lovers hashing out arguments at 1:30 in the morning, no laughter drifting up from the sidewalks to his apartment's windows. There was nothing. Suburbia was eerie in that way, it stilled during the nighttime. The city, his city, had no time to still, it seemed to vibrate with energy constantly, never taking a breather, never-resting its eyes.
The night grew darker and Christina's breathing, heavier. Desperate for sleep to overtake him and uneasy due to the piercing silence provided to him by suburbia, Danny began to count Christina's breaths.
Counting her breaths, instead of counting feminine sheep, Danny found his mind drifting elsewhere. To the break room in the hospital to be specific, when on a certain night, after a hectic day, an irritatingly cute colleague, fast asleep on the putrid couches provided by the hospital, muttered a few words while sleeping.
A grin spread over his face, his sheets crinkling around his face in response, as he remembered the episode of laughter experienced by both himself and Jeremy after Mindy's sleep slip up.
Sleep-talking was a medical phenomenon, both he and Jeremy understood that, both men holding doctorates in the medical field, however neither of the men could explain why the voice she had used while sleep-talking was not her usual high-pitched accent-free Mindy wine, but her high-pitched wine, heavily laced with her native Boston accent, the one she worked so hard to rid herself off when first arriving to the city.
Smiling, now unfazed by the eerie silences provided to him by suburban living, Danny fell fast asleep, the memory of an irritatingly beautiful co-worker playing on a loop within his mind.