Page 69 of Broken Dream
Their absence is a tangible presence in this hollow room, filling up every forgotten corner. I can almost hear Lindsay’s laughter intertwined with Julia’s childish giggles.
My heart yearns for them, my soul cries out for their touch. But all I get is silence.
Then…Angie.
So quietly vibrant, a beacon of light in my bleak world.
Sleep is a distant wish once I banish the nightmare.
Lindsay.
Her touch used to bring comfort on sleepless nights.
Julia.
Watching her sleep was a sight that could mend any broken heart. Her little snores and dreaming twitches were so full of life and peace.
Guilt.
Remorse.
Regret.
Anger.
Rage.
They’re all there, taking me back to the void where I spent most of the past three years.
Until her.
Until Angie.
I let out a huff.
This is all ridiculous.
I untangle myself from my blanket and get out of bed, not bothering to shower. I splash some cold water on my face and riffle my fingers through my hair.
I have a day’s worth of beard growth. Scruffy. Messy. I don’t care.
I throw on a pair of jeans, sweatshirt, moccasin slippers.
Then I grab my leather jacket and walk the three doors to Angie’s place, where I ring the doorbell.
A moment later, she opens the door.
She looks like an angel. Her dark hair is damp from a shower. She’s wearing leggings and a large sweatshirt that says Steel Vineyards on it. Her feet are bare, toes painted red.
Why didn’t I notice that last night?
Red toenails.
Lindsay never would’ve worn red. She thought it was too garish.
Angie seems too quiet to be a red-toenails girl, yet here she is.
She widens her eyes upon seeing me. “Jason. Good morning.”
