[…]

Last night I dreamed I was talking to her, but she was wearing your face. Your pine-colored hair, your turned-up nose, the freckle on your arm. But she couldn’t have been you. The conversation was too easy. I told her our story, and it was much shorter and simpler than I’d thought.

Then she became you, really you. I knew because we were on a raft, far out at sea. We had food and water, but the land was nowhere in sight. No ships, no seagulls. Just the sun on the water, and a subtly curving horizon.