Copyright

You walk into a dully lit room. A plush crimson red carpet dents underneath your socks. You approach the brick fire place. The embers dance, giving the room a warm glow. The tv above it is off and the bookcases that flank at its side beg you to talk a book off its shelf. You drag your eyes away, refusing it offer.

You finally turn to acknowledge me. I'm draped over an L-shaped couch. My head lolls back onto the rim of the cushion. A warm comforter lays on my stomach. I offer you a seat.

You shake your head and tell me that it's okay. You sit down on the carpet in a quarter lotus, facing me.

"Tell me a story."

I hum. You do this everyday.

"Let's see, I had a weird dream last night."

"Tell me about it."