She watched the afternoon sun drop below the top of the arched window. A stream of light hit her eyes. She adjusted on the sofa to move out of the beam.

“I’ll close the blinds.”

Kurt got up and drew them shut.

She stared at the clock on the table next to her and watched the second hand move around its face. Tick. Tick. Tick.

She moved to the wall of books and distracted herself by studying the titles. She didn’t remember him having such a breadth of literature on the mystical: Dark Night of the Soul, by Saint John of the Cross. The Egyptian and Tibetan Books of the Dead. And a couple of books by the author Paul Von Ward: The Soul Genome: Science and Reincarnation, and, Gods, Genes and Consciousness, Nonhuman Intervention in Human History.

“Jesus.”

“What?”

“How many gods do you believe in?”

“It’s common after what you went through, Dominique.”

“What is?”

“The search for meaning. You’ve been on that search a long time, even if you won’t admit it. You sleeping okay?”

She hadn’t been sleeping well. She was exhausted, unable to focus. She hadn’t heard from Julian in over a week and that weighed on her.

She took a deep breath and came back to the sofa. She was queasy.

“I’ve been having dreams.”

“You want to tell me about them?”

She rubbed her forehead. She began to sweat.

“You all right?”

“Pieces. They’re pieces. I’m being pulled into a…”

She darted to the bathroom down the hall in his office apartment and closed the door.

He heard her vomiting, and moved closer down the hall.

After the sickness seemed to have passed, she was silent for a short time.

“You okay in there?”

“Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.”

In the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Pale. Trembling.

She washed her hands and face, glared at herself, and whispered, “You’ve got to tell him.”

“There are mints in the drawer,” he called to her through the door.

She opened a box and popped two mints in her mouth.

She opened the bathroom door and stood there.

“You sure you’re alright?”

She took a deep breath and said, “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re not crazy. You’ve been through eons of tragedy, starting with that hospital room in Pittsburgh, up to and including your brother’s death, and almost yours.”

He led her back into the therapy room.

“What would you think if I told you something came into the warehouse after the bomb hit?”

“I’d think something came in after the bomb hit.”

“What if I told you I saw writing on the sunlight that came in from the roof.”

“I’d believe you.”

“You’d believe me?”

“Yes.”