The sun rises through the Brooklyn fog. The bed is empty, dishes clatter from the kitchen. Jenna must already be up. Rising from the bed, shaking out the sleep from my head, I reach to grab my shirt from the back of the chair. Only it's missing. I chuckle, Jenna must be wearing it.

"Look's better on you anyway." I call as I walk down the hall.

"Carson, everything looks better on me." She does a little twirl as I round the hallway corner. "It's just a product of my nature." She smiles at me, though I can see beneath the surface that she is worried. From the set of her mouth to the way the smile doesn't reach her eyes, she is worried.

The long brown hair nearly touches her waist, floating around her like a cape. Maybe she should have a cape, goodness knows, she has saved me enough times.

"What's for breakfast?" I ask, realizing I didn't eat anything last night. Jenna was working late, and I guess I forgot to make something. Maybe sleep deprivation was setting in.

"I don't know, what are your lazy bones making?" She retorts, putting a plate of pancakes on the counter.

"Whatever you want, of course. I will make whatever you want." I reached out for her, taking the spatula from her hands and resting it on the stove. Taking her in my arms, I let our foreheads rest together. Breathing in the peaceful morning, I bend my head down to kiss her, just once.

"I will make you whatever you want." I tell her, just a little breathless.

"All I want is for you to get some sleep, you are never this touchy-feely and it's making me nervous." She pulls away from me, the joke in her voice doesn't reach her face. "Maybe its time to see someone. I am getting worried." Releasing her, I reach for my pancakes, and head for the table.

"Carson, I am serious. This is getting serious. When is the last time you slept? Like really slept? Maybe it's time for you to see someone, a specialist? A therapist? Anyone."

I can tell she wants to help; she wants to know. But I can't bring myself to include her in my problems, my life mess.

"Sleep is for the weak darling, the weak! I am not one of them." I shove in mouthful of pancakes, sweet and buttery, so I can't answer any more of her questions.

"Besides I don't need professional help. I only need Jeremiah and maybe liquor. It works every time. Drink the night away and sleep all day!" I chuckle at my own joke, hoping she buys it.

"I don't approve of your coping methods." Jenna replied with a laugh. She looks at the clock hung precariously above the table. "Shoot, I am going to be late." She makes her way to the hall but stops and pauses. "Here, you can have your shirt back." In one graceful swoop she lifts the shirt over her head. And tosses it over her shoulder without looking.

"That's not fair and you know it!" I call as I hurl the shirt back in her direction, but she is already down the hall.

As much as I hate to admit it, she is right. It's getting worse; no longer am I only haunted in my dreams, they are starting to spill over into my waking moments. Yesterday, I lost a full 30 minutes to a dream, but I was wide awake. Reaching to the countertop, I pull my phone form the charging cable. In a few quick keystrokes, I send a message to Jeremiah.

Henry's Bar

Our corner

8:00

I hear the water shut off from the bathroom. Jenna pokes her head down the hall, her hair in a towel.

"Hey, can you be gay for a day?"

"Uh," I am caught off guard, "Is this because Charlie is out of town? Because I think I could manage bisexual at best."

"I need to go shopping for a new dress for that work party next week." She disappears back into the bathroom.

"The one I am not invited too?" I interrupt her loudly.

"Yes, that one."

"Damn, you mean I have to help pick out a dress that I don't get to see you in?"

"Maybe if you are nice, I will leave it on after the party." She sticks her head back out and winks.

"Fine, I guess I can be your hype guy." I say with an eyeroll. She smiles and walks, towel-clad and barefoot, to the bedroom.

My phones buzzes next to my plate. Jeremiah's name comes up with a shortresponse.

-K

Just then, Jenna comes jogging down the hall, heels in hand. She stops when she gets to me. She leans over and grabs her keys from the bowl. Planting a kiss on my cheek, she slips on her shoes.

"Okay, Official and Honorary Hype Guy, meet me at the mall at 4:30. Bring your eye for style." She smirked; we both know I am style-incompetent. "Never mind," she rolls her eyes, "bring your patience instead, that might do both of us some good."

As she closes the apartment door, I head her call out, "Take a nap! Your work will still be there tomorrow!" The door closes behind her with a scratch; it doesn't hang in the frame straight.

I leave my dishes in the sink, making a mental note to wash them later. After all, Jenna made breakfast the least I can do is clean up. I know I need to sleep, but sleeping means dreaming. While that is the one place I know I will see her, I don't think I can stand the hallow feeling in my chest growing any wider. I mean, self-medication seems like a good idea in the present, I doubt it will last, and I am seeing Jeremiah tonight anyways. There will be plenty of self-medication happening with him.

I look at the clock, 8:17. Meaning I have eight hours before I have to leave and meet Jenna for shopping. Ugh, why did I sign up for this.

I run my hands through my black hair; it's gotten longer recently, maybe a side effect of sleep deprivation includes reductions in self-care. I push it out of my eyes. All I want is a shower, maybe that will wake me up, or put me to sleep. I am not sure which I would prefer anymore.

The water spews out of rusted shower head. I have to bend my head down just to get my hair wet. I am not that unusually tall; however, I stand by the assertion that all shower fixtures should accommodate at least six-foot people. Perks of cheap housing in Brooklyn I suppose.

I reach out and grip the wall as a wave of dizziness sweeps over me; my breathes hitches and I feel the ground coming up to hit me...

* * *

The field sprawls out before me. The sky is eerie, casting a dark green tint on the ground. The color was reminiscent of angry oceans, just before the flood waters breech their tumultuous shores. The atmosphere crackled with ozone.

"Aideen, there are storms coming." The voice pauses, "Seriously, Aideen we have to go, like five minutes ago." The voice increases in volume to overcome the roar of the wind coming over the field.

I search the field, looking for the source of the voice. Nearby, an outcrop of trees sits along the edge of the field. The voice is coming from there. I am sure of it. I thrash through the corn. Pushing towering stalks out my way; the pollen falling golden and heavy, clogging my eyes. Reaching the edge, I see a gear-clad young woman, maybe 25-years-old. With fiery red hair pulled into a bun and a shifting gaze, she is one who demands attention. There was nothing subtle about the command of this women. She is all power, practically oozing with it. Her gaze landed up in a tree before shifting over the horizon, at what I couldn't tell.

"Aideen, honestly, you must have gotten at least 100 pictures already, we download them later. Now let's go." Her gaze shifted back to the tree, mine followed it. Sure enough, there she was. Dangling from a branch, legs wrapped around, anchoring herself as the wind picked up, camera in hand. Aideen. My Aideen. Older and more refined, her blond hair not in two braids but in one. The checks had lost their childish roundness, but her eyes still glinted with the wonder of the world.

She looks down at her companion, "Gosh, it's like you have never seen a Midwest thunderstorm in July before." She retorts without a hint of malice. As if the skies heard her, the sky flashed on cue, send a bolt of lightning to the ground

Deftly, she slings her leg around, so she is hanging on to the branch with just her fingertips. And she drops. As she does, my stomach sinks with her, plummeting though the 20-foot drop. Hitting the ground, she executes a perfect tuck and roll, all while managing to protect the camera.

The boom that echoed the flash sends the girls running eastward. I dash to follow them. They reach their Jeep parked on the neighboring field approach just as the rain begins. Heavy and hot, drenching me in an instant.

* * *

I awake laying in the bathtub, my stomach rolling. The shower water burning against my skin. Steam fills the bathroom as I reach up to shut off the water. I lay against the hot porcelain, fighting the urge to heave, and settle for crying instead.