TWENTY EIGHT

                          I woke up with a jolt. I closed my eyes again. A blush crept over my face. My hand shot over my forehead, the sound of my palm hitting echoed in my ears.

     'It's a dream. I can't go out with him, at his place, hot chocolate, his lips.'

      My finger felt something soft under my fingers. My eyes snapped open, "No!" My eyes drifted toward my hand. My eyes widened in shock, I gulped looking down at the soft blanket. It wasn't a dream. Disbelief crawled inside me. 

      I hurried to my feet and gathered the blanket in my hands. I opened the cupboard and thrust it inside and locked it again. My shoulders were moving with shallow breathing. 

     I placed my head against it and stared at the door, "It wasn't any dream." A smile appeared on my face again.

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