It’s hotter upstairs than down. I flipped my pillow hoping for a little coolness. Martin stirred in his sleep. I froze. I’d disappointed him by forgetting to remind him about his prescriptions. Then I did it again when he knocked over the glass I’d left on the counter. Holding my breath, I cursed myself for moving.

It was all I could do to save the evening. He was so angry but I didn’t cry or do that thing with my face. I apologized but not too much to play the victim. I was calm but not too much to appear nonchalant. Nonchalance is a big no no. If I woke him up that would be I can’t imagine.

I listened. Slow and rhythmic, Martin’s breathing returned to sleeping. Finally I relaxed. My shoulder blades ached. A tear ran down my nose. Then another. Night fell all around me. Another tear slipped down wetting my pillowcase.

My dream waited for me on the other side. I dreamt of a forest fire. Its roar washed over me in waves. Trees of flames exploded. As each drop of water within boiled bursting into steam. Their eruptions shook the forest floor. The sky turned black with smoke. Ash drifting like Christmas Day snow, I strolled through the heat, humming.