“Michael…” the tiny voice calls from the corner of my dream.
I hesitate, confused, trying to figure out who the voice belongs to.
“Michael…” There it is again, only this time it seems closer
and more real.
“Michael!” A third time. The voice is growing more urgent. Is
it worried? Frustrated?
My eyes pop open and I turn toward Michael. He’s awake; he’s
heard the voice, too. The clock beyond him reads 6:05 a.m.
“MICHAEL!” Chloe shouts from her crib. She’s ready to get
up. Michael stares at me, waiting to see if I’m going to get her.
“Don’t look at me,” I say, rolling back over. “She’s calling
you.”
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