Anaisa chewed her lip, waiting. Walking back and forth along a broad stretch of sand next to a sea.
The waves kept time for her, if time had any meaning here.
Growing restless, she stopped her pacing and looked out over the water. Fake water, of course, conjured by her own mind. Modeled after the sea of Trace's dreamworld.
But not nearly as pretty as his.
Oh, his dreams were wonderful! Gorgeous!
Whereas hers began anew each night, from some model of her subconscious attempting to process the day or her feelings in an odd way, his was steadfast, eternal.
She wanted to go back.
But first, they had much to do. Plenty to accomplish.
A vacation to Trace's dream world could be her reward to look forward to at the end of it all.
Another wave crashed upon the sand, larger than the one before. The sound swept over her like an irritated huff.
Patience was not one of her stronger virtues.