Because she called me, I could work towards the middle of where we left off and where it all went eventually. About seven days from now there would be remembrance, I would crawl under her skin, like ink. I would make her week feel green and I would wake her up. I had always been in her sleep, waking her up. She was used to being alone there. Her flock never did they speak to her as I did. It was always just one. Me.
The night before the day she woke up there was a troubled atmosphere. Perhaps it was her mäh, she said, but future would decide, and the only thing certain was the pain, my pain, as I lingered in her doorway. I wondered whether it was me who she dreamed about. I saw at least four other sheep surrounding her. I saw her being scared. I saw her hoping that by holding her breath her troubled eyes would shut. I smiled, because I know this is what young sheep do, they close their eyes and think they are invisible.
The scent of baked bread came out of the freezer and she cut a slice. This time it was the hunger that woke her.