24
Grayson
In my dream, I stand at the base of a great clay oven. The scent of baking bread surrounds me. My mouth waters. Hopping, I reach for the oven’s door, but I can’t get anywhere near it. I’m too small. Everything’s out of reach when you’re a kid.
A woman steps by. She wears loose linen pants and a matching tunic. “Only a few more minutes, Gray. Then I’ll cut you a slice.”
One moment, I’m a kid, trying to look up and see the woman’s face. Next, I’m my current seventeen year-old self. I stand before the mystery woman who called me Gray. Her features are blank. No eyes, nose, or mouth—just a sleek sheet of skin. Yet, I know that’s wrong. This woman has a name and face.
I know her.
Voices break into my dream.
“The kitchen is over here.”
“Fill up those boxes.”
“Do not disturb L
