Warning: Objects in Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear

Stolen Glances of 1586 Whisper Drive

"SHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEK."

I can't I can't I can't I can't

Whispering, so many words, wisps in the air, dead dead dead dead

Breathe Breathe Breathe Breathe

"Miss? Miss, it's going to be okay. Just stay calm."

Paramedic Man in uniform, gloves and badge and tight lips set in frustration and pressure.

I need I need I need I need

But you aren't real, I say to him. You aren't here.

Him Him Him Him

The words don't even leave my mouth.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

"Have they found anyone?"

Fire and smoke and grey is the world, and I can't-

"No-not yet."

SHUT UP, I scream. DON'T TALK! YOU'RE HELPING NOTHING! JUST SHUT UP!

They don't listen, they don't listen to me, and the walls are closing in on me, and I don't know what to do-

HELP

And then it all fades away, replaced by an opaque and lucid silvery smoke, and a transparent and strangely warm hand reaches for mine. "Shhhhh," it says. "It's okay now. It's okay now."

I am I am I am I am

I take his hand and then I'm FALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLINGGGGGGGGGGGG-

"Fallon," she says, "I swear, you'd better wake your butt up right now or I'm tanning your hide. You're freaking me out, girl! Wake up!"

I am thrust up and into myself again, my soul reconnecting with my body, and I'm hyperventilating and sweating.

"Alice Maria Fallon!" Fran says to me, sitting in the bus seat beside mine.

I blink at her, then lean my head up against the cool glass window and moan. The bus is a beige world of talking and colorful t-shirts and body odor; my back hurts from hunching over subconsciously.

"Was it the nightmare again?" Fran asks me, looking frantic. Her curly brown hair is sticking up in odd places, and her grey eyes search mine. Fran is a small creature of olive skin and small hands, thin face and pale lips. She is my best friend. And I've never told her about the nightmares.

I look away and tell her so. "I've never mentioned those to you before."

"Yeah, what, and you expected me not to notice something?" Fran laughs, a worried glint in her eye. "I sleep over at your house, like, every weekend. You're not exactly subtle about it, tossing and turning and groaning like that in your sleep."

My face burns red and I duck my head down behind the dark green bus seat. "Oh, gah, please tell me I didn't do that here."

"Relax. I was just kidding. Sort of-you did it once." She shrugs. "But you were like, deep into it. Freaked me out. What do you dream about, anyway?" She lightly giggles and shakes her head. "Like you didn't believe I could figure it out. What, did you forget our Best Friend-ship or something?" Her eyes widen. "Ohmigosh, it's totally about Cam, isn't it? Or is it, like, one of those where you lose all your teeth?"

"One question at a time, please, Fran. You're hurting my head." I pull my head back off the cool window peppered with raindrops and say, "I've been having these weird dreams about the old house on my street burning down."