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...d died. His beautiful wife faded away from him so quickly. Their littlest girl had been asphixiated by a plume of ash, only a few days after the first of the attacks had occured. She hadn't stood a chance.
   So many of the youngest died that first year. An entire generation of young families were forever tainted by loss and tragedy.
   All so distant. All so painful. The dream was liquid in his mind, beautiful and fluid and buoyant, but also thick, and hard to navigate. David had little time for dreams anymore.
   This night, he let himself fall into the flood of emotion, knowing that the process of hardening up will take even longer than before. Every time, having to harden up. Unable to surrender to the present, and fighting to reclaim a past that may well have never existed. The dream soothed him like a drug, and the consequences would be unbearable. He thought of Jaqueline, and in the light of the midday sun, his sleeping form wept.

He is awoken by a gentle shaking.

Uh oh. No one's written this branch yet. :o

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