I sat on the kitchen island stool, kicking my legs and humming, watching my father cook and talk endlessly. I was in another dream, I could tell that much. Unlike before, I wasn't seeing from someone's eyes, I was seeing everything myself in the body of a child. The strange child next to me from last time, the one with galactic hair and eyes, sat on the other stool. Unlike the first time I saw her, she wasn't looking at me. She couldn't see me or she was pretending not to see me.I didn't understand what was going on or who she was, but I knew Dad cared about her. He was telling her stories about his best friends, Grandma and Hendrix's ancestors. He told the child he didn't hate Grandma for what she did. He was sad, heartbroken, and felt betrayed at first, but over the years, he forgave her. I wish Grandma was still alive, I would have told her that."So do you have any friends? You seem like a lovely child," the child stared emotionlessly at Dad, the glimmer in her eyes the only slig
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