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There is peace in these moments between sleep and wakefulness In the softlike a gift bestowed by a benevolent universe

This is a world of dreaht And I want to stay here, wrapped tight in the comfort of his arms

But dreah the corridors of sleep, dark fingers of fear reach out to me My pulse pounds andhis touch, but he is not there, and I sit bolt upright,so hard I will surely crack a rib

Jackson

I’h me I’m afraid, but I don’t remember why

Too quickly though, it all rushes back, and as theto slide back into oblivion Because whatever horror my mind would fabricate in dreams couldn’t be any worse than the reality that now surrounds me, cold and stark

A reality in which the world is cru down around my ears

A reality in which the man I love desperately is suspected of murder

With a sigh, I press a hand toas I shake off the haze of slu out of our war air At the tiht in the blankets that still held his scent and radiated the lingering heat from his body

Noish I had roused myself when he did, because I don’t want to be alone Alone is when panic creeps closer

Alone is when I’m certain that I will lose him

Alone is what I fear

And yet even as the thought enters my mind, the solitude is shattered The bedroom door bursts open, and a dark-haired, blue-eyed bundle of sunshine races toward y so vibrant I laugh despite myself “Sylvie! Sylvie! I made toast with Uncle Jackson!”