Lying beside you, hand on your chest, I felt your heart thumping. "Everything okay, Brad?"
"Nightmare," you mumbled. "I dreamt you died in an accident. At the Crookshaw Bend."
The road was on my daily commute. It was a sobering thought.
Driving into work the following Monday, I recalled your dream. I touched the brakes. What would happen if I died? Would you cope with the kids? How would Ben and Olivia react?
Thinking about the unthinkable, I failed to notice a car drifting over the centre line, just as I approached the Crookshaw Bend.