I5 YEARS AFTER: Olivia Reeve I rolled in bed, aware that I was dreaming, the same dream I have had for fifteen years, but nonetheless haunted by it. I knew this boy, I knew him because he looked like my son, could have been my son. But only he wasn’t my son, because my son would not make me feel all these butterflies in my belly. I was with him in the auditorium today again, staring, aware that he was sitting behind me. But we did not say a word to each other. I stood up, deciding to ask what his name was today. Perhaps I would hear it this time, perhaps that static sound wouldn’t block out his voice just as he said his name. But instead of the steps leading out of the auditorium, I found myself walking towards the theater room in a prom dress. When I pushed the door open, he sat there, eyes dark, and a glass of red wine in
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