35 It was one of many dreams Biro had of Zenobia. Rich in detail, her face as clear as life before him, her dark eyes hypnotizing, her voice rich. They were all surprisingly realistic and each time he woke slightly disoriented, trying to remember where he was. Yet now he awoke and she was still there, her naked shoulder peaking out from under the thick covers they shared, her dark hair loose, tussled and full, overflowed onto the pillow where her head rested. Biro’s heart raced, the reality of her presence trickling into his freshly wakened mind. He had just heard her voice, her question like so many dreams before, “Biro, what will become of us…” And here she was. How? How had she come to be here with him? He moved in closely, desperate to feel his skin against hers. He reached out to s

