Her fingers shape the night into forms for her dreams as she moves towards the day this time will create. There is no great distance left to travel, as dawn has already begun to ease itself over the distant horizon of her consciousness.
You take the shape of a face she once held between her hands. You are as real as anyone she once touched. You walked into her dreams as though you were someone she could take into her waking life. Someone who could go on down the road with her, far past the crossroads where so many turned away, leaving her to walk on alone.
And now, she wakes slowly to see the curtains blowing in the wind; to see the dawn lighting up what was the darkness; to see that space, the empty in her life, across the bed. She turns from the dawn to face the darker shadows before closing her eyes again.
Finding herself back on that road, she sees you far ahead and races to catch up with you.
[See here for an explanation of these posts labelled as Fragments]
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