Closure
My sister and I were in a city that I didn’t recognize, but she seemed familiar with. Everything was amber from the setting sun. There were two and three story brick buildings with a wide sidewalk on either side of a canal. We walked down one side, talking about normal brother sister stuff. In the distance was a store with bright, colorful things in the windows. Something from childhood. A toy store.
“You want to hear it again, before we get it turned off?” I asked Lindsay.
“Yeah,” she said, with a slight smile and a quiver of her chin. I pulled out my cell phone, dialed dad’s phone number, and turned on speakerphone. His voicemail picked up immediately, “Sorry I couldn’t take your call, but you know what to do, right?” And we both teared up.
“I can’t believe he’s just gone,” said Lindsay.
“I know,” I said, hanging my head, shoulders slumping. I could feel myself deflating. I looked up and we were at the toy store.
“Ready?” I asked. Lindsay took my hand, nodded and opened the door.
Then I woke up.