James Black pulled the thin blanket from under Jane Sampson and placed it on her chest. Then he turned the airflow of the air conditioner towards the wall, as she always liked to have the cold wind blowing directly on her as if she had no idea it was bad for her body—just like how she secretly ate all sorts of junk food, seemingly forgetting that her health hadn't been good since she was a child.
When Jane slept, she was very quiet, curling up into a small bundle on one side of the bed, leaving a wide space on her right for James Black.
Jane's sleeping position wholly epitomized a person lacking a deep sense of security. At night, she always held herself, assuming a protective and self-enclosed posture.
A bed, in her mind, was divided into two parts—one belonged to her husband, James Black, and the other was her personal space.
It was as if the distinction was clear-cut; even in sleep, she would never cross the line she had drawn in her heart.
