A Black Cotton Dress

            This morning, as I drifted through the wispy threads of consciousness in the hour prior to waking, I had the most terrible experience.

            I stumbled into Annabell’s room. She was not there but a photo album lay open upon her bed. Pritstick and scissors lay next to photos by the side of the album. They were pictures of Annabell lying in a field and laughing. She had aged, but only slightly. Perhaps a year or two had passed. She was ever more beautiful. The hard edge of her features had softened slightly and the lines around her eyes had taken a beautiful turn, the product of happiness.

            Suddenly, as I sat gazing at the photos, I heard footsteps enter the room. I turned around and saw Annabell standing in a white cotton dress. She had flowers in her hair and smile dancing upon her lips. She giggled and beckoned me out with her fingers. We walked out of her bedroom and straight into my living room. She took my hands and dragged me into her, laughing. I came willingly into her embrace but she fell backwards, down onto the sofa. As she fell she pulled me after her. I caught my fall with a spare arm and lowered myself softly down upon her body. I could feel her breathing, her body pressed against me. She smiled kindly and passionately.

            “My dear,” she breathed.

            “Annabell,” I whispered.

            “My dear, I want us to be together again.” I couldn’t believe the words. It was the happiest moment in my life. I felt relief and joy surging through me. Then she continued, “But I have to leave the country; I have to work abroad.” The fear welled up immediately; I couldn’t lose her yet again!

            “For how long?”

            “Just a few months. Can you wait? Will you come with me?”

            Relief flooded me again.

            “I’ll do anything!”

            And I would’ve done, but then my alarm went off and my day was destroyed as surely as it had just begun.