Albatross

The dream always began with the violent crashing of waves, a sound that pierced Elliot's subconscious and filled him with dread. He stood on the edge of a pier, the frigid ocean lapping at the wood beneath his feet, the howling wind a cold companion.

Then, abruptly, the scene would shift. Warm sunlight, a soft breeze, and the gentle rustling of grass replaced the harshness of the sea. And there, in a wide, green field, was Allan. His eyes, gray-blue and sharp, softened only when they looked at Elliot, a sight that always made Elliot’s heart ache.

“Bad dream?” Allan would ask, his voice a comforting murmur. Elliot would nod, shaking grass from his clothes, knowing what was coming next. He never wanted to leave this place, this peaceful sanctuary with just the two of them.

“Elliot,” Allan would call, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “You need to wake up.”

And then, he was gone. The field, the sunlight, Allan—all vanished, leaving Elliot in the cold, dark reality of his apartment. The rain beat weakly against his window, city sounds a dull thrum outside. The space beside him in bed was empty and cold, a stark reminder of the man who was now only a dream.