The dreams change, spiralling to the one day I don’t want to remember. The rain. The voices, calling, “Can’t we do something?”
And then, “Where is she?”
My dream splinters apart at the edges. My eyes creep open, but my limbs are still heavy with the numbing effects of sleep. The voice repeats, nearer and louder and horrifically real.
“Where is she? Where’s my Miri?”