She swallowed, “I like your jacket.

” He cracked a smile and straightened the

lapels. Around his neck hung three gold chains and he wore about fifteen rings on
his fingers. He was at a certain age where he might have been forty-five or he
might have been sixty.

“Fifty-bucks for it." He laughed at that a little harder than she thought was
appropriate and he sounded a little nervous too. The neons in the window cast a
bluish tint over his skin and she found her own crawling as she turned her back to
him. Sasha sat a few seats away and frowned as she looked at the rows of washers in
front of her. Hers was the only one running. She pulled out her phone and pretended
to scroll.

“Lovely fingers,” he said quietly, leaning over as if they were sharing a secret.
She clenched her hands into fists.

“Excuse me?” she said, a little loudly though she didn’t expect any help from the
mother with her sleeping son. The guy shrugged and pulled back a little.

“You have nice hands. Do you ever do any knitting or sewing or anything?” His voice
was oddly familiar like she’d overheard it on the bus or at a coffee shop. Not
someone she really knew, but certainly someone she’d heard before.

She felt her face turning red. What a creepy attempt at flirting. Not to mention he
was at least old enough to be her dad. “What are you talking about?”

“My nana used to make blankets,” he said, “you know on a big old-timey loom, you
know? She had the most beautiful hands. Strong hands and when she moved her fingers
it was like magic.”

“Can you just leave me alone,” she said finally. He frowned at her and nodded,
running a hand through his thinning brown hair.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said and cleared his throat. He looked away, but every once in and
while he would start looking at her again. First just stealing glances out of the
corner of his eye, but they got longer and longer. She slammed her phone down and
turned to look at him.

“You are making me uncomfortable,” she said slowly. He was looking sheepish now,
almost pained.

“I don’t mean to. Really I don’t.”

“Well then can you please stop?”

“It’s just that…” he shook his head and ran his hand through his hair again, “can I
ask you one more thing?”

Sasha glared for a moment and then sighed. “Fine.”

“Do you make the scenes happen or as they happen?”

Her blood went ice cold. She knew where she’d heard his voice before. The smile he
gave her was utterly feline. “You recognize me?” he asked hopefully.

“I said you could ask one more question,” Sasha said. Her heart was pounding. Maybe
she was still asleep. Maybe she was still dreaming.

“You can ask me one if you want.”

“What the hell do you want?” she whispered. She didn’t want anyone to interrupt
them now.

“I’m as freaked out as you are, okay? I’ve never…I thought your brain couldn’t make
up faces. That’s a thing people say about dreams, right? You can only dream about
people you’ve met.”

“That isn’t the weirdest part of this,” she snapped. She didn’t know this man, had
never seen him or met him or overheard him in a coffee shop. But they’d shared a
dream. Such a real-seeming dream.

“Do you think that makes it real?”