"Sleep well?" Francois asks Carol, while still gently stirring his coffee.
"Divinely", she says with a sweet rapt little smile, and she closes her eyes still smiling raptly and repeats as though intoning a spell, "Divinely."
"Sleep is divine", says Francois. "Sleep is a gift. A divine gift." He takes his first sip of coffee, holds the warm liquid in his mouth, swallows, and says, "Sleep is a gift from God."
"I daresay that you are right", Carol says.
"Did you dream?" Francois asks, and hearing while eavesdropping that question, I know for a fact that Francois is no ordinary priest.
"I never dream"
"Never at all?"
"Well, almost never, I imagine. Wait", she says, letting the cup pause just in front of her lips. "There was something early this morning. Someone was calling my name."
"Your full name?"
"Yes, It was a man's voice, calling softly at first, Carol Barlow-Meade. Carol Barlow-Mead.
Carol Barlow Mead. Always three times in a sequence, and it got louder, and louder, and then receded into the background, and then there was silence..."
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