The drip, drip, drip of the sink invades my dreams. The medication, four blue pills and two green, turns even good dreams into nightmares of shape, color, and sound. In my dream, orange squares with beady squirrel eyes chase me through my house which coincidentally is full of quicksand. My legs sink. The sand sucks. I’m falling.

My back hits the mattress. Dim moonlight crosses over the unfamiliar, blue bedspread. Someone rolls over in the bed beside me. A man’s nose brushes my shoulder, his blonde hair almost silver in the darkness. I shift away from him. Why is he in my bed?

He looks like he belongs there, but his name escapes me. I’ve probably woken him up before to ask. It’s not worth it tonight.

I grab the small, black photo album on my bedside table. Little pieces of tape label each picture. The first one is me: Andrea Fae Lynn. I’m in a flowing, white wedding dress. My face was younger, and my hair was darker then. The second is the man in my bed: Danny Lynn. He’s in a tuxedo. We’ve been happily married for twenty years. Danny and the kids tell me these things every morning, hoping I will start to remember. It’s working. I’m remembering what they tell me.

The third picture is the kids: Daisy and Ben. Its Daisy holding baby Ben. They’re both grown now I think. Yes, the next picture is of Daisy with a family of her own. I almost remember Daisy’s baby being born, only because it was after my accident.

Danny mumbles beside me. His eyes open a little bit. “Andrea, are you okay?” He lifts a hand to touch my face, but he stops. The air between us buzzes with hesitation. I kiss him. Our lips don’t fit together anymore, but he smiles. “You remembered me.”

Just his face. I don’t remember what I felt for him. Those feelings are locked away somewhere I’ll never be able to reach, but I return his smile anyway.

Fiction

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