Sarah woke up with her face crushed into the pillow. Her hair was still sticky with milkshake, but she smelt faintly of strawberries and pink flowers. Jareth could never make his effects last into the real world, especially not her happiness. Her father was calling her downstairs, so she quickly rinsed her hair and tear-stained eyes before going downstairs.
The four of them sat round the dining room table. Toby gurgled in his highchair. The rest of the family's plates were empty, but Sarah hadn't touched her ravioli.
"How was your day, Sarah?" her step-mother tried.
"Okay."
"What did you do at school?"
"Nothing."
"What lessons did you have?" the poor woman attempted desperately.
"Art."
"Oh, you like art, don't you Sarah." She said in a bright falsetto tone, "You do lovely drawings." Sarah's eyes bored into the older woman's, who faltered.
"I hate art. And I'm not hungry." Sarah pushed her plate to one side, and stroked Toby's soft cheek before going back to her room.
"I'm really worried about her," Sarah's father confessed to his wife, "I mean, she had a hard time at school anyway, but since that night..."
"I know dear." she said, "Try not to fret. She's just going through a stage."
"I hope so..."
Sarah stopped listening through the floorboards at that point, and sat in front of the mirror. She combed her hair carefully, gently tugging out the tangles. She looked different tonight, somehow. Her cheeks seemed rosier, her eyes softer. She felt more at peace than she'd done in a long time, even though her thoughts were in turmoil. Longing for Jareth's touch, she closed her eyes and held her cheeks, trying to imagine that they were Jareth's hands. It didn't work, though- her fingers were too short, too warm, too rough. Jareth's hands were like cold silk. And his lips- she gasped as she suddenly felt the faintest of pressure against her mouth. Her eyes flew open, and the feeling disappeared immediately and there was nothing there. She thought she saw a flicker in the mirror behind her, but it could have been her imagination. She sighed. Jareth always seemed so unreachable, as distant as her reflection. The only way to reach him was to fall asleep. If only she could fall asleep forever..