She awoke; startled,
from her nightmares. Behind her she
heard the steady whir of a fan. The room was dark. Lying next to her, in the bed, was an old
man. He was asleep and snoring loudly. She did not know this
man. She was not afraid, but she wondered why he was there. His
hair was gray and thinning on top. There was a slight bald spot beginning
to form. He had a pleasant face, but it was showing the early lines of
time etched beside his eyes and in the furrow of his brow. Each time he
snored he would gasp for air and stop breathing. She wondered if he would
take another breath, but after a few seconds he would wheeze and loudly draw in
his next gulp of fortifying air. What did he want? Why had he crept into the place where her
husband once slept? She considered placing a pillow gently over his face,
but did not dare wake him. Momentarily, she considered trying to get up
and sneak away, but knew she could never be quiet enough. Surely she
would wake him if the bed jostled. Instead of trying to escape she
laying there watching him, wondering where he had come from. How he had gotten there? She watched as once again he gasped for air,
licked his dry lips, and turned his back on her. They had been married twenty-four years, but
she did not know this man.
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