Gathering Happiness

"Mike?"

Connie Rubirosa shoved the
bedclothes out of her way and sat up. 
Michael Cutter was sitting on the other side of the bed, his face in his
hands; his shoulders, when she touched them, were hard as a rock.

"Mike?style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  What's wrong?"

He dropped his hands into his
lap, but didn't look at her.  "I …
had a dream, that's all."

She shifted around until she was
right behind him and leaned against his back, wrapping her arms around his
shoulders.  Resting her chin on one of
those shoulders, she sympathetically asked, "Nightmare?"

He managed half a shrug.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  "Not really.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  Just … a little disturbing."

"Why don't you tell me
about it?"

He bit his lower lip and shook
his head, eyes still lowered. 
"Maybe later."