"Yeah," George replied with a nod. "Just... Feels weird. Like I came down from the sky too fast." In truth, it was worse than that. He couldn't even hear his finger poking at it anymore, but he wasn't about to add another worry to the morning. He'd leave it alone, and if it wasn't better, he'd see somebody about it. Nothing to panic about.
"You're right," he said flatly, "I'll be sure to speak at a normal volume the next time I dream that you're--"
He cut off sharply and picked up his plate to dump it, pancakes and all, into the sink with a clatter, angry with himself and his stupid brain and whatever stupid thing had happened. It was stupid.