Spent, Irene lay with her head resting on Sam's chest.  The bed was torn apart, blankets and sheets twisted as if they'd been caught in a minor tornado.  She shifted her leg, freeing it from the restraining sheet to run her foot along Sam's leg.  She was tired, now, but not quite sleepy.<br/><br/>Dust motes danced on the blades of sunlight that sliced between the shutters' slats.  She found herself watching the particles, picking one and following its upward and downward movements.  The effect was mesmerizing and her eyes slowly fluttered closed.<br/><br/>"Thank you, Sam.  It's been a perfect day," she said.