333 of 365
She woke with a start, the dream too real to ignore. The image of her father in a heap on the ground too grave to erase. She could still feel the damp soil beneath his broken legs, still see the toppled ladder laying beside him. Throwing her fleece jacket over her pajamas, she rushed over to his house. Instead of knocking on the front door, she ran around back to find her father exactly as her dream predicted, unconscious but still alive.