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Summary
“These dreams you’re talking about, when did they start?” The therapist finally spoke, albeit slowly, Sasha was willing to see past the irritating and nasal drawl to stay still.
“Couple of weeks ago, just a few days after my parents’ funeral,” Sasha said coolly - like they have been cold facts being pulled out of an emptier soul. “It would always end with a blank face. A girl with auburn hair but I wasn’t that sure if it was because that is her hair or if it was because of the sun.”
She had not known dread, not in her parents’ funeral, and not in the accumulating break-ups and bad dates that have all told her that it’s her fault. So she wasn’t exactly sure why it lingered beneath the comfortable sheets and the unused spaces of her queen-sized bed.