Jonah fell off Sally’s bed and slammed his head on the floor as he awoke from a dream in which Sally told him everything was going to be okay, all he had to do was remember her. When he reached to touch her cheek, she’d dissolved into smoke and he’d fallen from the bed.
A soft knock came from down the hallway, at the front door.
Jonah wrapped his bathrobe around his naked body and sat up against the bed. He did not wish to answer the door. He did not want to face anyone. Face any more questions and accusations or theories about what he, or worse, his wife, might or might not have done. He could not stomach another bout of interrogations.
The knock came again.
Soft. Delicate.
The knock of a girl.
He got up and rushed to the door, nearly tripping in his slippers.
He flung open the front door.
She stood there, smiling shyly, and Jonah’s heart broke.