It was her mother’s voice.
She did not say Liv or Livy. She used the name that required her immediate attention, as it had since childhood.
She heard the Venetian blinds knock softly against the windowpane. A lighter darkness shivered into the room.
She breathed in quietly, trying to wrest clarity from the anarchy of dreams.
The softest snuffle answered her.
Her heart punched her chest so violently she believed the impact was audible.
Her body objected, weighting itself into the mattress.
A shadow drifted silently across the bedroom wall.
The more she stared, the more elusive it became.