That night I dream of an office decorated entirely in red. Crimson walls stretch off into the distance, with no end or windows in sight. My bare feet stand on a blood-red wooden floor dotted with small round carpets of the same hue. To my left, scarlet-colored leather chairs encircle a large table made of red crystal. At my right, there looms a massive cherry-red desk, and behind that desk sits Armageddon.
My breath catches. Armageddon is here! My body goes on high alert, preparing for a wall of terror to slam into me. It doesn’t. I feel frightened, sure, but nothing like how it felt at school when Armageddon walked by me and Cissy.
What kind of dream is this anyway?
Armageddon folds his three-knuckled hands neatly onto the desktop, his mouth slowly stretching into an impossibly-wide gr
