Walk to work
No. No, please. He can’t be. He can’t be—
Annie sat up in bed, panting, her body clammy with cold sweat. It was the dream again. That morning, back in the old house. The slice of sunlight across the floor. The brief second of happiness before it all shattered, Mike’s footsteps in the hallway, and then his terrified voice shouting for her. Annie! Annie, call an ambulance!
But it was just a dream. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t now. She got her breathing under control, slowly bringing herself back to the world. Monday morning. She was sorely tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, but she dragged herself up, listening carefully at the door to make sure Costas was out. It was irrational, but bumping into him in her pajamas could make her want to explode with rage. She’d once had her own lovely home with its spare room and window seat and garden full of flowers, and now here she was flat-sharing again. She washed in the moldy shower, brushed her teeth in front of the toothpaste-stained mirror and got dressed in her usual black attire. The dream still clung to her like cobwebs, an under note of panic in her breathing that she knew made no sense. It was years ago. It was far, far too late for panic.
Since she was up early, Annie set out to walk to work. At the last moment, feeling how cold it was when she opened the front door, she almost balked. But she thought of the packed bus, and remembered that she’d have to have something to write down in her notebook. So she went. One foot in front of the other, walking away the past, step by step, until her breath came quicker because of the exercise rather than the dream, and her head had cleared. The walk was perhaps not the most beautiful in the world, but the morning sun was pink on the concrete, and when she arrived at the office she was slightly puffed and glowing. She was even early, since she hadn’t been stuck in traffic on the bus. Sharon helpfully commented that her face looked “all red and sweaty,” but Annie barely even cared.