I had a dream about you this morning.
You were visiting a house I was at, a large house that may have been a former business. In that measured tone you have when you are easing into a difficult topic, by bits and pieces you divulged a relationship that seemed to have been developing for some time and settling into domesticity.
Meanwhile I wandered the room, eventually coming to a endtable. I found things that had to go in my pocket. Soon I was taking everything off the table. I said I had to go. And left before we could say anything else.

But my morning dreams are always tortured.