Affable

There was nothing affable about her demeanor today. She just couldn't manage it. She couldn't manage anything more than quietly sinking to her desk and avoiding everyone's cheery morning moods.

She was stuck on the dream. The nightmare. Drowning in that big old house as it swirled away in the storm.

She remembered the initial calm she'd felt after realizing that she'd already helped her friends and loved ones get out. They were safe, so what did it matter if she closed her eyes and let the darkness take over? It'd be easier not to resist. No pain in surrender.

Then she remembered him. How he would feel when he learned she had died. How he would fall.

It hurt her to think of him hurting that way. So her eyes flew open and she started to fight. She felt the panic seep into her lungs with the water as she swam uselessly for a window. She couldn't move. She had failed him.

She woke with a muffled scream lodged in her throat. It came out a whimper. She was alive, but she didn't feel it. She looked over and saw him sleeping peacefully. She didn't want to wake him, but she needed his touch. So she reached for his hand and held it tight. And she kept her eyes open.

She wasn't going to drown again tonight.