FREYA
After I woke up, I had to be sure that it had only been a dream. There were no bite wounds, and I knew I was being silly. But it felt so real, and some part of me wanted it to be. I wanted to be his, to feel the tingling when he touched me.
I couldn’t go back to sleep. I tried, but as soon as I closed my eyes, I saw him, felt him. So I stayed awake and waited. And thankfully, there were already hints of a sunrise, so I knew I didn’t have to wait for long.
I was cooking fresh bread when Dad came out, and he smiled at me.
“It smells good, Freya. You have always been as good as your mother at cooking,” he says as he sits down.
“Thank you. I had a good teacher.” I say.
“Yes, you did.” He says, and we sit in silence for a while
“I am sorry, My daughter.” He says quietly, I know what he apologizes for. So I don’t ask.
It doesn’t take l
