I found you seated on the couch at the family den when I came out of my room. "What were you doing in my house?" I had asked myself, suppressing all the possible alarming answers I dared not hope to be true.
In my surprise, I had called out your name with a question mark twice as if to check whether I was dreaming that you were really there and 'twas your voice I had heard.
It seems too much to handle at some point that I had closed my eyes to gather my wits. Torn between the misery of the mysterious visit and the bliss of you.
Yet the irony of it all was that when I did finally open my eyes, I knew I had dreamt it all.
Certainly, I didn't expect I'd dream of you.
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Being single has never been this bloody silly.
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