Melanie wakes to the sounds of angelic consternation, and is instantly on the alert. What could be wrong? Does she need to hide? Or help? She slips out of her bed on silent feet, but a quick glance around the little flat reveals nothing out of the ordinary. No guests, no intruders, nothing's on fire. Aziraphale has his back to her, but it seems the focus of his distress is the book in his hands. Her brow furrows. What could be so bad about a book? He can miracle any book he pleases into existence, and any damage one might suffer could be instantly repaired, so what's the problem?

She doesn't exactly mean to sneak up on him, but she makes very little noise, and the book he's holding has most of his attention. She doesn't want to startle him, so her hand is gentle when she lays it on his arm, and her voice is soft as she says, "Azir--"

And then she's falling, landing hard on her back with a loud clap of noise. What was that? She lies there, stunned, unable to pull in a breath, or speak, or move. All she can do is stare up at the ceiling in silent astonishment.