All that was left of him wasthe faintest feeling of dread, a sickness in the stomach when she thoughtof him and an occasional shadow cast over her dreams.And then there was Him. She knew nothing about him, not a name oranything. She just knew he was there, somehow, deep down in the pit of hersoul. He wasn't like an imaginary friend. He never appeared to her orspoke to her. But occasionally, in certain situations, it seemed he wasthere. At school, in maths tests, or when she was in trouble with ateacher or got into a fight, it seemed he was there and she knew what to door say. It was possible that once, a long time ago, he had woken up in herbed, when her father was there, and screamed and screamed until Mum hadcome to rescue her. Sometimes, when she was still a child, she had dreamedof a little boy. He was always very sad though she couldn't say how sheknew this because she never saw his face; he was always looking away fromher. But you could also say that they were both. I wanted to see what she would say about it. As I studied her, I could tell she was shook.I started to fix a bit to eat, and after a few minutes with her not saying anything, I said, "He seemed like a nice guy."Mary shook her head, then said, "I don't think so." Oh? Why not?" Woman's...", she said with a frog in her throat. She cleared her throat and said in a normal voice, "Woman's intuition. He was hiding something." Maybe so," I said, then changed the subject. We both ate something and she went back to her ceramics. I went outside to finish up some yard work I hadn't finished the previous weekend. Later when I went back inside I noticed that she hadn't gotten much done. Maybe she was thinking about what almost happened.The rest of the day was normal, except she seemed to be preoccupied, a couple of times I caught her sighing with a sad tone and once I saw her shaking her head with an expression that said she couldn't believe something.I ignored the sighs and looks, while I thought.
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