Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.

~ Albert Einstein

Love you, Joe. I love you too Amanda. She smiled to herself and switched off the bedside lamp. This was one ritual she hoped would never grow old even when their bodies did. It amazed her that life had turned out so well deliriously happy, sleeping next to the man she loved. It seemed like a dream, the kind that you wake up from, say dammit! and shut your eyes again tight, praying that youll drift back off to sleep just to see what happens next. Nobody ever falls back asleep after that though. On a typical day it was the dogs cold, wet nose that woke her up. Or sometimes a rough paw placed indelicately on her arm. God forbid Lucy walk to Joes side of the bed and wake him up. Smart dog. Shed have to wait all morning for him to let her outside. This time, though, it was an incessant buzzing under her ear was the culprit. She shoved her arm under the pillow and reached clumsily around. What time was it anyway? The bedroom was blackit couldnt be time for her alarm to go off. The buzzing stopped just as she managed to snag the phone from underneath the soft, downy pillow. The pillow where she would like to rest her head for just a few more minutes. I can tell that this will be a fabulous day, she thought. The screen on her phone seemed to light up the whole room. 1 missed call. Unknown number. 1 new voicemail. What the fuck? She pushed herself up from the bed and stumbled into the next room, not wanting to break the silence of their bedroom while she checked the message. Received atwhat time was it anyway? 4:27 am. Holy shit, its early. Whos calling me? And the message played softly in her ear. Amanda, its Uncle Eric. Are you at the hospital? We just found outyour dad was in a motorcycle accident. Were in Milford but well be there as soon as we can. Im sorry.give me a call back. There was something covering her eyes. Her ears. Her mouth. She couldnt breathe. She could see herself in a dark room, knees drawn up to her chest, rocking her body back and forth with the constant rhythm of a metronome. She could hear nothing except the pounding of her own heart as it grew louder and louder and LOUDER until she felt as though it would beat itself out of her body. She could imagine it thrusting out of her chest, red and wet and pulsing. Pumping her coppery blood onto the floor until there was none left. Deflating like a sad, wrinkled balloon. It was a gruesome sight. She could have stared for hours. She looked back at her phone, suddenly hating it. She wanted to throw it against the wall and watch as it shattered like glass into a million tiny pieces. Her anger was the only thing that kept the panic at bay. You cannot panic. You cannot cry. Do not break down. This couldnt be happening, but it was. She clung to her sanity, her composure, like the captain of a ship must grip the helm as he sinks into the deep blue sea.

She fumbled with the phone in her hand. Her fingers felt thick and awkward, and it seemed as though she had aged one hundred years since she crawled from her husbands side. She felt like an old woman, and wondered bemusedly if she looked like one. If she lay next to Joe, would he look and her and see an ugly hag? Would he ask, Who are you? Where is my wife? She didnt dare walk back into the bedroom.