Woke up at 4:44 in the morning because the bed was shaking. I listened, frozen, and could hear objects in the room rattling. I was not awake enough to think about what to do, only waited for it to stop, and it did. I went back to sleep thinking about how Seattle has had a bigger earthquake while I’ve lived in CA than I have ever felt here.

Then I dreamed about the boy from my book again. In this dream he was nineteen, with a mop of thick black hair on his head. He was not wearing a shirt (thank you, subconscious) and I was examining the tattoos that covered his skin. They were all very fine and delicate and pale blue lines, like tiny street maps on his chest. I called him by his first name, and then I left. I was late to something. Then I was with Brian, walking down some street, he was holding a child, but I don’t think it was ours. I don’t know where we were. The whole thing is slipping away faster than I can write it.