“Hello?” a groggy, low voice said.
“Chrissy, I’m sorry to bother you, but I don’t want to sleep.”
A long sigh.
“Miri? It’s two in the morning.”
“I know.” A beat. “Again, I’m sorry.”
“What is going on? Why don’t you want to sleep?” Chrissy asked, her voice rough as she cleared her throat.
“Because I’m afraid to wake up.”
“Miri, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard—”
Miri heard the faint swallow as Chrissy took a sip of water.
“It’s just a dream, Miri. It isn’t real. And for all you know, it might not even happen again.”
“God, that would be even worse.”
The silence that followed was enough; Chrissy could hear Miri trying not to cry.
“Miri, listen to me. I know you’ve been struggling, and I’m really worried about you. I—”
“I know it sounds foolish,” Miri cut in. “I know how it sounds. But it feels so real. More real than—”
She stopped. She knew exactly how it would sound.
“Miri, I’m here for you. You know I am. We’ve known each other since sixth grade. You’re going through a rough time after the divorce. Of course you’re shaken up. But it’s still just a dream.”
“A recurring dream,” Miri said. “Silly, I know.” She swallowed hard.
“Miri, I have work in the morning. You do too. Try to sleep, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.” Chrissy yawned again.
“Yes. Of course. Talk tomorrow.” Miri sighed.
The line went dead.
Her body had gone stiff, her gaze fixed forward, holding her breath.
Then her eyes caught it.
The small, wrapped box still sat on the side table, a fine layer of dust dulling the ribbon. She had meant to get rid of it months ago. His name was still written on the tag in her own hand. A birthday gift for someone she had never once touched in daylight.
Her breath hitched and she quickly looked away.
Miri rose from the sofa and paced in front of the fireplace. She picked up her glass of white wine spritzer and finished it.
She sat back down on the sofa and picked at the spread— olives, thin almond crackers, a new cranberry cheese she’d bought on a whim at the market. She didn’t feel hungry, but kept eating anyway, barely tasting it, until the plate was empty.
She got up and paced again, then turned every light switch on, the brightness stinging her eyes. She looked up at the clock. A yawn slipped out anyway. 4:05 A.M.
She took a book from the shelf, sank back onto the sofa, and tried to read. The words wouldn’t stay still on the page. She set the book on the coffee table and turned on the TV. Flipping through the channels, she let out a long breath. The repeated press of the button tired her thumb.
A notification reminder on her phone flashed.
She glanced at it— Reminder: German Chocolate.
Her thumb stalled on the volume button, then pushed it higher. She watched the screen without blinking, then switched to a streaming app and found the service discontinued. On another, she found old reruns and sank deeper into the sofa, keeping the volume high.
“I missed you,” he said. “You’re late.”
“I… I—”
Miri looked at him.
He reached for her, and her body gave at once, folding into him. His heartbeat hummed in her ears, while a hard knot pulled low in her body.
She tasted bile.
She tried to pull herself away. But her body was too heavy.
“It’s okay, love. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” His mouth brushed hers.
She stayed close to him, counting her breaths.
When she finally looked up, he was watching her.
“We don’t have much time.”
Most of my longer work is tied up in the slower, traditional publishing process, so this is my way of sharing something in between. A sneak peek of a larger piece of literary fiction I’m working on. Thank you for reading.
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I can't sleep,because I am afraid to face tomorrow 😩
I have no idea what's happening here...