He awoke in the middle of the night and outside, through the slit of the curtains, the world was as orange as though the entire city was burning. Still, he was too close to sleep to panic. The alarm clock faced away from the bed, and his arm was too heavy to reach up to turn it.
There would be alarms, he thought, or cries for help. He lay still and listened, hearing nothing but the sounds of an empty apartment.
It snowed, he reasoned, heavily, and the streetlights are reflecting off of it, that is all.
Satisfied, he slept.