The Dream

Max dreamed.

It was the beach. The sun was hot and loud.

His wife was there. She was Buffy too. It was the day of their first real fight. The girl in the bikini. The one he had looked at too long.

-You always look at girls, she said in Buffy’s voice.

Max looked at her face. Hungry, yellow eyes.

She smiled. Fangs in sunlight.

-Your eyes wander all the time, she said. It makes me feel ugly.

Max tried to step back. The sand held his feet.

-I’m loyal, he stammered. It was the same excuse he used that day. But I can’t always be faithful.

The woman who looked like his wife laughed. She sank and melted into the sand.

The ocean pulled back. Then it roared.

A wave rose up. A tsunami. It crashed down on him.

Max jolted awake. He was gasping.

The room was dark. The sheets were wet. Not just sweat.

The window was closed. But the air smelled like salt.

A whisper brushed his ear.

-You are faithful now, the voice said. To the night.

Max sat up. His heart hammered.

He looked at the pillow beside him.

A black rose lay there. Perfect. Still.

A ribbon was wrapped around the thorns. It was the color of dried blood.