It had been such a good dream. Beautiful really.
Sophie barefoot in the kitchen wearing one of those pretty floral dresses she'd sewn over the summer.
He didn't know she could sew until they moved to Arkansas. Didn't know she was a morning person either. Didn't know she hated wearing shoes.
He'd not had much opportunity to find out.
There was sun coming in through the windows.
That should have been the tip off that it wasn't real. It was never sunny in Fayetteville.
She was baking, like usual, and humming scraps of the liturgy while she worked. He came downstairs and kissed her. It was unsettlingly real. He could feel the scars on her chest through her dress. He could smell her. Frankincense and sourdough.
His hands moved to untie her dress at the waist and her fingers drifted up to card through his hair.
And then he woke up.