I had a dream three mornings ago that I was searching for you. Walking through empty parking lots, vacant schoolyards, playgrounds that rang with the hollow of nobody. I couldn't find you anywhere. Then, I was at home, in front of the heater in the dining room. I was waiting for mom, waiting for her to walk around the corner with that smile, appear in my line of vision.
And this morning, I had a dream that me and you and Dad were hiking through the jungle. There were leopards around and we knew it. One starts following us and I start growling at it, but it leaps and rips out Dad's throat. You run over to him but I know he is already dead.