-Mr. Finley?

Brian realized that Darlene was staring at him with concern. He cleared his throat.

-No, nothing is wrong, Darlene. It’s that I just realized I haven’t had any coffee this morning. You know how I get when I don’t get my daily fix.

Darlene giggled in a schoolgirlish way and went teetering off to the kitchen to dutifully brew Brian a pot of coffee. Brian looked at the message slips again. Who was this Henry Davenport? Was this the same Henry Madeline had mentioned this morning? If Madeline was even her real name. Brian was sure of nothing at this point. Did this morning’s events even happen?

Fragments of last night’s dream came to him suddenly, unbidden. Crashing through branches of a dead tree, no leaves to cushion his fall. Twigs and bits of broken glass and blood in his hair. Blood on his face. The ground getting closer and closer. Everything colorless, lifeless. Except for the nearby stream, its blue waters beckoning him. And a voice shouting out his name, only it wasn’t his name. David!