Bad dream

Nov 17, 2009 22:29

Irma's stay, while not perfectly smooth, had gone rather well so far. The small apartment was empty during the day, save for a curious cat and a terse tortoise. Not a fan of cooking, Tom and Irma grabbed take-out and chatted about all sorts of things. Tom had figured out which topics were safe, which were dangerous, and how to navigate between the two.

The couch wasn't all that bad to sleep on. Tom's job kept him busy, and he did sleep. But on the third night, he had a nightmare.

He's running along the alleys of the City, or maybe the other City. It doesn't matter. They always find him. The chittering of beetles heralds Their arrival, and no matter how fast he runs, one always lands right in front of him. The one that stabbed him.

The pale bald man smiles, grabs a woman out of the shadows. It's Irma. There's a knife in his hand and he's holding it her neck.

He's too slow. Always too slow. He takes a step, cries out her name--

And wakes up in a pool of sweat, his blanket tangled around him. For a second, he can't remember where he is. Then he does remember, and hopes desperately that he didn't cry out loud, especially not with Irma staying here. Of all the times to have this nightmare.
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