Hunt
Dimly, as if from deep underground, I’m aware when Lily gets out of bed. My fingertips cling to the fabric of her sweater, and I hear her little chuckle as she pries me off. Something brushes my hair, but it can’t be her lips. Must have been her hands. I stir as her bare feet pad across the room, but I’m sinking back into sleep by the time she closes the bathroom door.
Through the haze of unconsciousness, I hear the water running, hear her soft voice humming. The sounds blend with the pictures in my head, until she slips into my sleep. In my dream, we lie in the meadow beyond the river, the lazy grass bowing in the breeze. She runs her hands through her long hair, letting it flick out and drift behind her in the air.
When she lies down beside me in dreaming, she lies down beside me
