“Time isn’t linear, love,” she swept a sweat drenched lock across Orion’s forehead as the fever kept him locked in the bedroom. Since coming back from a dig in southern Egypt, he had recurring bouts of malaria.

Alicia sang soft songs as she sat on the bedside. She hated the dreams the fevers brought him. He’d wake and look at her with wild eyes— as if he’d never seen her. It took anywhere from seconds to minutes to bring him back from wherever the ether drug him to. The songs seemed to keep the confusion at bay. The dreams themselves seemed to slip from him like water droplets when her voice swirled through the room.

Alicia never cried in front of Orion about the dreams. But the first steps outside the room often were the hardest.