Nirvana
Sunset in Sausalito. Idyllic. Perfect. Golden red light spreads its last vestiges of solar heat across the couple sharing a hammock overlooking the rocky coastline of northern California, but already the air has taken on the damp chill of nighttimes by the Pacific. Betty rolls over, tucking herself more securely against Bruce, a bare foot sliding between his. They had been like this for hours, it seems, and she wouldn't mind staying like this forever.
The rope biding the hammock to the redwood snaps, and without warning they tumble down toward the rocks; the hammock must have been slung too close to the edge. In midair she is snagged by a massive green hand, and somewhere along the craggy cliffside they pause on a stone ledge, his hulking grip keeping her safe from certain death below.
She clings to him, arms around his naked shoulders, and feels something that should not be there. Other arms. When she opens her eyes, she sees another face. A woman's face. Kate Waynesboro.
"Like Daddy said, I'm involved. And you're not," says Kate. "You go now," the Hulk concurs, and he lets go.
The instant that she, screaming and flailing, plummets to the razor-shop rocks at the bottom of the seaside cliff, she wakes up, sweat-soaked, sobbing. It's the middle of the night in the desert, but the dream is gone.
So is Bruce.
She finds some empty boxes - they're always around for the inevitable - and starts packing the library.
The dream is gone.
The rope biding the hammock to the redwood snaps, and without warning they tumble down toward the rocks; the hammock must have been slung too close to the edge. In midair she is snagged by a massive green hand, and somewhere along the craggy cliffside they pause on a stone ledge, his hulking grip keeping her safe from certain death below.
She clings to him, arms around his naked shoulders, and feels something that should not be there. Other arms. When she opens her eyes, she sees another face. A woman's face. Kate Waynesboro.
"Like Daddy said, I'm involved. And you're not," says Kate. "You go now," the Hulk concurs, and he lets go.
The instant that she, screaming and flailing, plummets to the razor-shop rocks at the bottom of the seaside cliff, she wakes up, sweat-soaked, sobbing. It's the middle of the night in the desert, but the dream is gone.
So is Bruce.
She finds some empty boxes - they're always around for the inevitable - and starts packing the library.
The dream is gone.