The dream still clung to her.
She'd been on a carousel, alone. The painted horse beneath her moved in slow, endless circles while haunting music played from nowhere.
The first time she turned, she saw Mami and Babi standing at the edge, waving. Their smiles were soft and faraway. On the next turn, Erjon and little Lule were there, just as they had been, children with bright eyes and wild hair. Lule had a half-eaten plum in her hand, and Erjon's shirt was too big.
But the next time the carousel spun, they had vanished. Gone like a dream that never was.
In their place stood Crispin, looking as he had that first time she had seen him.
And his family stood behind him.
All of them elegant, polished, and smiling at her. Alice raised her hand to wave.
Until Helga appeared.
She stepped into the circle, her hand on Crispin's arm, and suddenly, the smiles shifted into frowns. Judgement and contempt stared back at her until, one by one, they turned and left, Crispin walking with them.
She called out to him.
He didn't look back.
And then Lule was there again, older, smiling at first. But then her brow furrowed and her smile disappeared like mist in the morning sun. And she, too, slowly turned and walked away.
Aria was still on the carousel. Still turning.
She couldn't move. Couldn't scream. Couldn't step off.
She was trapped, circling endlessly.
That's when she woke, her heart thundering, breath sharp in her lungs.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was. There was a vague grey light pressing in through the blinds, the silence too thick, her throat too tight.
Then the room came into focus. Her flat. Her bed.
She exhaled, slow and shaky. Then she lay back down and turned her head on the pillow. Her body felt hollow, like it had been emptied in the night-muscles lax, bones brittle. As though she were made of ash.
There was still time before work, at least three hours, but she couldn't go back to sleep.
The night before pressed into her consciousness like a straitjacket she couldn't escape.
She sat up carefully, joints protesting, and caught her reflection in the mirror across the room. Her mascara had bled beneath her eyes. Her lip gloss was gone, chewed off long before dessert. She looked older, like grief had etched itself into the corners of her face.
She rubbed her hands over her crusted eyes, pushed back the tangled waves of hair, and stood.
The flat was silent, the air still faintly perfumed with rosemary and the expensive cologne clinging to the scarf she had worn. The nausea hit her with a vengeance as the humiliation of last night refused to be ignored. She had never felt so insignificant.
She moved like an automaton-brush, toothpaste, clean underwear. A long shower. She needed to feel clean again.
When she stepped out, she wrapped herself in the fluffy purple robe. The colour had faded years ago, worn soft and patchy. It had once belonged to a neighbour who let her have her castaway clothes.
She checked her phone. One message from Lule.
You okay? I am panicking here. Call me. Please.
Aria stared at it for a moment, then typed:
He turned up with his fiancée. It's over. Will talk later. X
