I was alone in bed in my boyfriend’s studio apartment. We had overslept, so he had to rush off, late for a meeting. I glanced around the room, noticing the mid-morning light filtering in through the curtains just above my head. The sunbeams highlighted the hardwood floor strewn with books, a towel, and an assortment of clothing: his jeans, t-shirt, my skirt, bra. One stocking hung from the table, beside an empty bottle of...