Last night, I dreamt of Cactus.


I pace the room. 20 steps left to right, 25 steps door to window.


Cacti?


Outside the stasis shield shimmered against the constantly black sky. My home. Cell Rock Epsilon Gamma 453 Orbiting 15 million miles from home.


Back to the bed (5 steps from the window)


5 Cigarettes in the pack.


It doesn’t matter what they’re called. I dreamt of them.


I’m not sure how many days until the next delivery. I’m guessing longer than I have smokes.


It seems longer than last time. A lot longer since I wrote that letter.


I don’t even know if she got it.


I don’t know how she’ll take it.


So I’m waiting.


Which, so I’m told, is the point of being here.


***


4 cigarettes.


***


Last night, I dreamt of Cactus.


I pace the room. 20 steps left to right, 25 steps door to window.


Still 4 cigarettes.


It wasn’t a bad request.


Was it?


It’s been…what…6 months since I was put up here. I cheated and counted the marks on the calendar. I lost count a long time ago.


Not a sigh. A deep breath.


5 paces to the bed.


She knows I love her, right?


4 Cigarettes.


It could still be 2 cycles before I know anything.


***


Last night, I dreamt of the desert.


3 Cigarettes.


I pace the room. 20 steps left to right, 25 steps door to window.


It was a hard night. Like when I was first here. Sometime I get….I just…I miss people.


Her.


Miss her.


Shit.


How can I get something in my eye in a dust free environment?


2 Cigarettes.


***


Last night it was cactus trees. 


Again.


1 cigarette.


It’s amazing how much mess you can make trashing a small cell.


Let it come tomorrow.


***


There’s no more cigarettes. I’m staying in bed.


I’m hope I dream of cactus trees.


***


A package arrived today. Cigarettes. Soap and stuff. And a box.


I’ve smoked 5 already.


My hands are shaking. I can’t open it.


***


I’m sitting here on the floor – the box in my lap.


It opens easily. Ziplock back inside.


I pull it open and release a dress – crumpled, slept in, stained.


Soup there, wine here. That looks like blood. And desert dust.


It smells like her.


I got dust in my eye.


I don’t care how many cigarettes I have left.


***


Last night, wrapped around the dress, I didn’t dream of Cactus Trees.