Mark goes to bed in February and wakes up in August. There's a tang of seasalt to the air, and the summer sun filters through the blinds to lay stripes on--yes--a bed wide enough for two. He's barely had time to take in his surroundings, much less to piece together their implications, when a small blonde cannonball pelts across the floor and hops up to the bed, all sharp elbows and bony knees.
"Oof."( Cut for domestic bliss and daughter angst )
OOC: Welcome to the no-daughternapping zone. As if I'd write anything else. Visitors are welcome to bother Mark at the Montauk house
or at the nearby beach. The place you entered will be marked by a bright red light--a glow just outside a door or window, or just beneath the water's surface at the beach, out past the breakers. Amanda and Cindy, of course, won't be able to see it, but Mark certainly will, if you call his attention to it. It is also the exit point.