Dreamed You, Found You

Ch23: Almost a Conversation

Adrian woke with a word on his lips.

"S—"

He sat up, blinking in the dark. The bedroom was silent. The city lights filtered through the blinds, casting thin lines across the ceiling. His heart was beating faster than it should.

*She almost said it.*

In the dream, he had asked her name. The grey city had been calm, the air still, the distance between them smaller than ever. He had looked at her—still unable to see her face clearly, but close enough to see the shape of her mouth—and he had asked.

"What's your name?"

She had answered. He had seen her lips move. He had heard the first sound—an "S," soft, almost a whisper—and then the dream had fractured, the sound swallowed by the grey.

*S.*

That was all he had.

He reached for the notebook on his nightstand. It was new, bought the day before, its pages blank and white. He had never kept a notebook by his bed before. He had never had anything worth recording.

He picked up the pen.

*S——？*

He wrote the letter, then a line, then a question mark. It looked incomplete. It was incomplete.

He set the pen down and stared at the page.

*S.*

Something with an S. A name that started with S. He had heard it. He had almost held it.

He closed the notebook and placed it back on the nightstand.

Then he lay down and closed his eyes.

The grey city did not return.

But the letter stayed with him—S, the shape of it, the sound of it, the way her lips had moved when she said it.

He fell asleep with the letter in his mind and woke with it still there.

---

In the morning, Marcus found him at his desk, the notebook open beside the keyboard.

"What's that?" Marcus asked, nodding toward it.

Adrian closed the notebook. "Nothing."

"You don't buy nothings."

"I bought a notebook."

"You bought a notebook." Marcus set down the coffee and crossed his arms. "You've been sleeping better?"

"No."

"Then why do you look different?"

Adrian picked up the coffee and took a long sip. It was black, bitter, exactly the way he liked it.

"I almost learned her name," he said.

Marcus waited.

"In the dream. I asked her name. She started to answer. I heard the first letter."

"And?"

"And the dream broke before I could hear the rest."

Marcus was quiet for a moment. Then he pulled out the chair across from Adrian's desk and sat down.

"Adrian, I've worked for you for eight years," Marcus said. "I've seen you negotiate billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat. I've seen you fire people without changing your expression. I've seen you sit through a twelve-hour deposition without once looking tired."

Adrian waited.

"And now you're trying to learn the name of a woman you met in a dream." Marcus shook his head. "Do you realize how insane that sounds?"

"Yes."

"And you don't care?"

Adrian looked down at the closed notebook. The pen lay beside it, uncapped, the ink drying.

"No," he said. "I don't care."

Marcus stared at him for a long moment. Then he stood.

"Well," he said, "when you find out her name, let me know. I'd like to thank her."

"For what?"

"For making you human."

Marcus walked out.

Adrian sat alone in his office, the notebook closed, the coffee growing cold.

He opened the notebook to the page with the question mark.

*S——？*

He looked at it for a long time.

Then he picked up the pen and added another line.

*She almost told me.*

He closed the notebook and went back to work.