She folded the book closed and set it on the floor, gazing at Christians sleeping figure. They had lounged around the house for the night, reading, discussing the finer points of Rik Mayall's comedy, and then, when they ran out of things to do, teasing Jeff about his newly dyed hair. Nothing important had happened at all, Gabrielle thought, flicking off the small light, and resting her head on Christian's chest as it rose and fell gently. She breathed in his scent, of dark blue, of clear skies and of comforting melodies, and she wondered how she could smell that on anyone. Absently, and sleepily, he brought his hand up to stoke her hair, and her back, the gesture beckoning her to fall asleep, to become lost in his ancient, familiar embrace. Gabrielle wilfully gave in, melting into him and sleeping, entrapped in his arms, his perfect embrace, trying to think only of him, while her mind made her dream of her lost love.

Gabrielle sat in the park. Pages of nothing fluttered around her like dead leaves caught in a hurricane. Snow was piling up on the bench she was seated on. She should have been cold. The sky was grey – no, white. It took on the reflection of the ground. If the pages burn, will the sky be red? She thought with awe. One tree before her shuddered like a skeleton against the wind. Its branches were dead, brittle, ready to snap. And suddenly, there he was. Leaning against the tree, like a Shakespearean clown. Eyes focused elsewhere, he didn’t notice her. She tried to stand, tried to walk over, but she was frozen. Then he looked in her direction, and smiled warmly. She let out a long sigh, not realising she had been holding her breath. And then he walked away without so much as a goodbye, and the pages began to burn.

The cold sweat that can only be born out of nightmares drenched her body and soaked her hair as she clutched at Christian, who jerked awake.

"What? What happened?"

"He left me." After a silent moment, Christian sighed, glad the horrid feeling that accompanies panicful excitement was over.

"Gabrielle, I know. I-" She shook her head violently.

"No, in the dream too." Pressing her hands to her head, she sobbed lightly. "And it all burned…the sky…the paper…everything." She gazed up at Christian, with eyes that seemed to become lighter with each passing day, their warm brown seeming to melt into a golden hue, and tears rimmed the edges of them, ready to fall. He reached into the mess of hair, also becoming lighter as time passed, and wondered why such a beautiful soul had to be so tortured. Christian whispered to her about dreams meaning nothing, but knew it wasn't true. Months ago, dreams were all he had.