I stare at the window. The curtains moved slightly with the breeze. I glance down at my watch. It reads twelve-oh-three. I sigh. I’m sitting in my apartment, the window open, TV on. I walk to my window and gaze into the night. The TV had been muted, allowing me to hear everything, including my own heartbeat. Suddenly, I hear a knock at the door, the noise I had been anticipating since the evening started. I open it, and knowing who it was before I saw, I smiled.

“Are you ready?” He asks, grabbing my hand.
“Wait,” I say, squeezing his hand in mine. Before he let me cross the threshold, he leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips. He turned, pulling me forward.

“No,” I say, rather loudly. “Wait.” He keeps pulling me, like he hadn’t heard.

“Come on, Amanda.”

“No, wait.” I pull against him. He continued. I turn to look at the room behind me. It was burning. “What’s happening,” I scream above the over the crackling of the fire. He continues to pull; I don’t know how much longer I can keep pulling against him. His hold is so strong. I keep staring at my apartment in horror. The walls were falling in, the ceiling caving, the fire destroying everything in the apartment. I screamed.

I sat up in my bed still screaming. I looking around, now fully conscious I looked around the apartment, everything was fine. No fire, no burnt possessions. I looked at my alarm clock, it read eight o’clock. I stood and walked to the kitchen, where I begin to make myself breakfast. Suddenly, I hear a knock at the door; I turned away from my pancakes to answer it.

As I opened it, I feared it might be him, the man I had never seen but in my dreams. I open the door, no one. I look around, and call, “Hello?” No one answers me. It’s when I turn around that I scream. My apartment is all ashes. I look around and see all my possessions burnt to a crisp. I walk to the black desk where I usually kept my keys, and run my fingers across the surface. My finger comes back black. Everything is black. Yesterday’s mail sitting on the table is purely ashes. My father’s clock atop my dresser is distorted.

“Amanda?” Someone calls behind me, but I don’t need to turn and look, it is the man from my dreams.