The birds in the European countryside don’t chirp; they drill. At least, that’s how it felt to Sky Moon as she peeled one brown eye open, discovering that the ceiling above her was definitely not her ceiling. Her ceiling didn’t have a collection of vintage porcelain geese staring down at her with judgmental beady eyes. Sky sat up, her 5’7” frame feeling every bit of the "festivities" from the night before. She was wrapped in a hand-knitted mohair blanket that smelled faintly of lavender and expensive bratwurst. The memories began to flicker back like a glitchy silent film: The neighbor, Mr. Gable, bragging about his new industrial-grade smoker. Sky, being a "hard-working person," deciding she was the only one qualified to flip the Halloumi. A third glass of local Riesling. A very heated debate with a garden gnome. "Oh, no," Sky whispered, clutching the blanket. She stood up, her 33-26-35 silhouette casting a long, slightly wobbly shadow against the wall. She was still wearing her sundress, though it was now decorated with a singular, artistic smudge of barbecue sauce right on the hip. Stealthily, she crept toward the kitchen, hoping to slip out the back door before Mr. Gable caught her. She prided herself on her "great attitude," but "morning-after-meat-sweats Sky" was a different breed of human. She rounded the corner and froze. Mr. Gable was sitting at the wooden table, calmly reading the paper and sipping espresso. "Ah, the International Model awakens," he said, not looking up. "You’ll be happy to know you won the argument." Sky blinked, her brain moving at the speed of cold honey. "The argument?" "The gnome," Gable nodded toward the window. "You convinced him that the countryside is too quiet and that he should move to Ibiza to find his 'true, open-minded self.' I believe you even offered to take his headshots." Sky flushed a deep shade of crimson that rivaled a sunset. "I... I am very goal-oriented. Even when I'm chilling." "Clearly," Gable chuckled, sliding a plate toward her. "Eat some toast, Sky. You fell asleep mid-sentence while explaining the anatomical benefits of a 'great ass' for sitting on uncomfortable patio furniture. It was very educational." Sky took a seat, her professional patience finally kicking in. She leaned back, took a bite of toast, and shrugged. "Well, I always say I like to try new things. Apparently, sleepwalking into the neighbor’s guest room is the new 'it' thing for the season." "Next time," Gable added, "leave the gnome out of it. He’s been in the family for years, and now he looks like he’s reconsidering his life choices."