MILES:
Tossing and turning, I felt cold, soft sheets under me—cotton of some sort. The atmosphere was filled with the aroma of something cooked with coconut, maybe rice. I sniffed and inhaled, trying to take in every line of smell. A baby began to fuss, crying, but I had no babies. Maybe I was imagining things. I laughed at myself. The cry became louder, turning into two babies.
I scrambled out of bed, despising the distasteful noise. My attention fell on my outfit, and my coordination fell into confusion. I rushed to find a full-length mirror. I was in some awful red pajamas, a black polo, and some metal stuff on my finger that felt cold. Fear gripped me as I fought the acceptance of that familiar coldness—a golden wedding band sat pretty on my fingers.
The kids continued to cry, makin
