In the Halls of Remembrance
CHARLOTTE
The scene shifted abruptly. One moment I was on a plane, anticipating my destination, and the next, I found myself standing in the old apartment I had lived in with my parents as a child. My mouth felt dry, and a metallic taste lingered on my tongue, preluding an overwhelming sense of dread.
This was a different dream—a very unfamiliar one. I had been plagued with dreams about Rogerio and me a few weeks before our divorce and a few weeks after we had concluded the separation, so I knew this had nothing to do with him.
I looked around for signs of any other person, but it was eerily silent. The walls were painted pale pink and adorned with a rainbow on one side. I searched my mind for hints regarding the direction of this entire experience, but for
