Akiko got out of the bath quickly, and pulled on the door. It opened as easily as ever, and the air outside was cool on her wet skin. She grabbed a towel from the rack and began drying herself. She could feel her heart racing, and breath was coming in gasps, almost panting. Slowly, she forced herself to calm down. She had just fallen asleep in the bath, and dreamed the whole thing. It was just a strange dream, and nothing to really worry about.

The small flat’s bathroom was across the entrance hall from the kitchen, and the only other room, with a tatami-matted floor, served all other purposes. It was six mats in size, so not too small, but Akiko did not want to bring any of her friends, and certainly not Naoyuki, here. Still wrapped in the towel, she pushed the table to one side and laid out the futon, shaking her pyjamas out of the middle.

In her pyjamas and curled up in her bed, things seemed a lot safer. Her heart rate was back to normal, and the strange dream she’d had in the bath was just that. Outside, it was still raining heavily, the wind driving it against the window, but she was safe inside, and warm.

With a crash, the window blew open, and the howling wind rushed into the room, bringing the rain with it. Akiko sprang out of bed, and pushed the window shut again, against the force of the storm. She made sure the catch was properly fixed before returning to bed.

As she was drifting off, she saw movement across the room, colours and metals shifting, two lights in the darkness, pointing in her direction.

The bang of the window blowing open again jerked her awake. There was no snake in the room, but there was a lot of rain, and she got up to close the window once more. This time she looked carefully at the catch as she closed it, but she couldn’t see any problem; she made doubly sure that it was closed properly before returning to bed.

She had almost drifted off when a small sound pulled her back towards consciousness. She opened her eyes, to a wall of colour mere centimetres from her face. She could see individual scales, glittering in the light that filtered in from the street. Slowly, she turned to look upwards, at the great ophidian head hanging above her, its tongue flashing in the darkness.

The crash of the window slamming into its frame and the howl of the wind brought her awake again. Staggering upright, she pushed the window shut, closed the latch, and then found some string to tie the latch down. The wind and rain had yet to die down at all, and even through the closed window they were loud. She decided that it was the sound of the rain that was making her dream of the snake.

She lay down again, hoping for some undisturbed sleep.