
He found her in the morning at the breakfast table. The dark circles under her eyes were as threatening as storm clouds.
“Another bad night, babe?” He threw the question over his shoulder as he poured a cup of coffee.
She seemed to not hear him. Toying with her still full cup, she sighed deeply, a catch in her breath.
He sat in the chair across from her, shoveling sugar and cream into his Kona dark roast. He stirred the rich, ebony liquid, concentrating on the clockwise café au lait swirl and wafting aroma of bitter coffee.
Watching her downward spiral, he pursed his lips in disapproval of her haunted expression. Unable to focus her attention on anything other than the cooling drink in front of her, she would be unresponsive if he continued to ask her questions. He pondered whether it was even worth the effort to talk with her.
“I had that dream again last night.” Her voice sounded threadbare.
“You were sleeping okay when I came to bed last night,” he took a gulp from his cup.
The muscles in her jaw twitched as she ground her teeth. She looked up at him from hooded eyes, and wanted to throw her coffee at him, but remembered it was already cold.
“I was dreaming,” she said. “That same dream I’ve had every night for a month.”
“Did you remember any of it this time?” He concentrated on stirring his coffee.
“No,” she spat out the word.
He put down his spoon, then leaned his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his fists.
“Then how do you know it was a nightmare?”
She held her hands, palm down, on the table. If she didn’t, she would have thrown her whole cup at him.
“When I wake up, I am terrified,” she said. “My heart is pounding, my skin is cold and damp, I can’t breathe. It’s paralyzing.”
Pushing away from the table, she knocked over her chair, then ran from the room.
He watched her dramatic exit, casually tipping back the last of the coffee in his cup. Taking a medicine bottle from his pants pocket, he smiled as he read the label – ketamine.
“Maybe it was something you ate.” He chuckled at his own joke.

Dark, dark, black, and bleak. And evil. Wicked too. Love it. I especially like the image of holding the table, lest she let fly with the coffee. Nice!
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Ah, Tara, you’ve gone dark and twisty! Some fabulous lines in this – dark circles like storm clouds, throwing question over his shoulder. < 3
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Ah – what a bastard 😉
I really liked the way you illustrated her mood, great twist at the end as well.
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Nice character. I like how he and the dialogue move the piece. This is very well done. Maybe Millicent should pay him a visit?
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Ha! Twisty and dark, poor woman. Love it!
Ally 🙂
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