Thursday, July 19th, 2007
Mr. Munro was talking in his sleep the other night. I have a lot on my mind at the moment and was wide awake. Like a good wife I tried to get him into a conversation because you never know what you might learn that way.
“You’ve got dust all over,” he muttered.
“What?” I frowned because I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Dust. All over,” he repeated quite emphatically.
“What sort of dust?”
“Explosive dust. You’re gonna blow up.” He promptly went back to normal sleep, leaving me dangling in suspense. Was I safe? Was I not? And why was I covered in this dangerous dust?
He couldn’t remember a thing when I quizzed him the next morning. Just my luck. A curious writer left thinking all sorts of what ifs.
