When you wake, the illness has passed from your brow, the morning reminds itself as a weekday. Your dreams were too kind to wake from, you ask for them back, but no one answers. The dog jumps around you until you feed her, then promptly settles in in the warm spot on the bed that you left behind. You cannot blame her. These in-between days are a strange limbo, a mountain of possibilities, a chance to erase what's been and start over.
You wonder if you'd like to start over.
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