Last night’s dreams brought images where the background is blurred and a girl is running. The Bookworm knows she sees an image of herself as a child, but can’t imagine ever feeling that care free. The picture slowly fades from sight.

Next came a scene that she has in dreams repeatedly. She sees rows of empty desks, one occupied. The small girl stands up and walks to the back of the room and sits in front of a large shelf that is, perhaps, a foot beneath the ceiling. As the child pulls a book from the shelf the whole thing starts leaning forward. The Bookworm screams for the child to move, but the girl just sits. The child doesn’t see the shelves falling toward her. Time slows down and the Bookworm fights against sleep to awaken and see no more. The girl looks up and sees the shelf, time speeds back up and her blood-curling scream is silenced with dust.

The Bookworm opens her eyes to realize that they were crusted from tears. She was back in her bed, the dream’s images seared into her head.