In Peace They Dream of War

He dreams he is awake. He follows her into the overgrown office. A tree has burst through a desk and moss covers the chairs. Parts of the walls have rotted away so the place is full of sunlight.

The moss is damp, they sit down. They breathe in the strange air. The place smells of a rainy evening combined with pressing summer air. She rests her head on the wall, or what’s left of it. His fingers slide through the moss and the dew cools his hands. His neck feels hot, as if hit by a ray of sunlight, beads of sweat trickle down his temples and he hears summer rain begin to fall. Soon after, tiny waterfalls leak through holes in the roof. He stares at them in wonder. Suddenly he notices a phrase written on the wall, in red ink.

In Peace They Dream Of War

He nudges her and asks her what it means.

'I think it means... When things are good we fantasise about them going wrong, so then we can dream about things getting better again.' She says the words slowly, decidedly. A smile creeps onto her face. She starts singing softly, a jazzy tune. She gets up to dance. Her hips sway slowly and her hands twirl above her head. He notices for the first time she has freckles. She stares him down until he joins her. 

Their slow dancing gradually turns into frantic movements. Somehow with breath left to sing, she sings louder and louder melodies. They jump up, dance around the ruins, tapping the rhythm of their song on the rotting surfaces.