When they turned the lights out, Peggy and Greta talked about having Heidi back. It was a vacuous conversation. That’s what they both thought as they sank into sleep. Sometimes they didn’t talk about what was really important, sometimes they just talked about the surface. Where had Heidi been for so long and why had she done that to her face? Who had done that to her face? Was it Ian? Surely you couldn’t do that to yourself without passing out? That’s what they really wanted to say to each other, but instead they talked about how good it was to have Heidi home and they could maybe go shopping in the next couple of days and make the quiche again. The fucking quiche. They were so close to sleep. The quiche was beginning to define them. Greta rolled over and was breathing heavy and warm and sleepy into Peggy’s face. They were so close to sleep, drifting in and out. Everyone thought they wanted to drink but sometimes they wondered if what they really wanted was just to be alone again. Maybe they didn’t want to work in the shop anymore, and then they were asleep. Gone. In a dark unconsciousness where time travelled weirdly or not at all. Where they dreamed they were a butterfly – not realising they were asleep until they woke up the next morning. Beside each other, listening to Heidi and Dell moving around in their morning ways, unsure whether they were people who had dreamed they were a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming they were them.

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