65
June 22, 2017 - 133 words
I had an extended dream about Mandy last night. I was at her ex-boyfriend’s art show, a small gallery opening in the hipster district of town. Late autumn's crisp afternoon sun lent a weirdly metallic cast to the whole thing. I ran into her, stuttered a hi and tried to move on. But she caught me and asked if I wanted to leave and have a conversation at the park across the street. I kept asking if this was a dream. She promised it was not. She started explaining why our friendship evaporated, why we had to stop navigating the emotional minefield of our confusing dynamic. I asked her to please prove this was not a dream. She asked me to please trust her, it’s real. Her face disintegrated and the dream ended.