16. Deciphering Black From White

Myra

I was shaking by the time I had finished telling Andrew those fragmented, but scary nonetheless nightmares. The ones that were not were a blur and I somehow knew they were not just some illegible images conjured up by my brain, but a part of the nightmare, like there were some old cherished memories. On those nights, my eyes opened more languidly and the only discomfort was the way my chest clenched painfully as it did when I missed my parents. 

I tried to calm down, tried to regulate my breath before looking at Andrew, who looked dazed. His mouth was slightly agape and his eyes...his eyes spoke volumes, but unfortunately, I couldn’t decipher anything from them. 

“Is...is something wrong?” I asked hesitantly, and that seemed to break his stupor. “Oh, no...not at all,” he replied