CHAPTER 15

THERE WAS A soft and moist and warm thing that was traveling on Layla’s skin, roaming slowly and deliberately, and it seemed, nervously as she felt it shivering a little. She was dreaming about something sweet when she was awakened by it, and it was a nice little dream largely because she was with Ambert in the dream. And in her dream, they were on a shore, sitting across from each other on a small round wooden table, just a few meters from the small giddy waves that kissed and adored the sand repeatedly. There was a bottle of champagne on the table, two wine glasses, and a white rose at the center with its short thorny stem.

In the dream, Ambert, seemingly, was happy and was always laughing—he would draw his head back, his hair would appear like every strand was jumping for joy, and his mouth would open wide into a happy shape— although he wasn’t making any sound, it was like watching a muted video, and she didn’t know why he was laughing, but he seemed very happy, yes, his eyes shon