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“Anger and resentment.”

“How many hours do you normally sleep at night?”

“Three or four.”Fuck, I really wish I hadn’t said that. But there’s no time to think.

“Do you have insomnia?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you sleep at all when you do?”

“No.”

“How often does that happen?”

“It’s more recent, I think. It’s happened about once a month in the last year or so.”

“Do you dream?”

“Yes.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yes.”

“How often?”

“Like four times a week.”

“What are they about?”

“I don’t remember. I forget about them as soon as I wake up.”

“Do you wake upfromthe nightmares?”

“Yes.”

“And can you fall back asleep after?”

“Not usually.”

“When can you?”

“When I sleep next to Vinny.”

“How often do you talk about hockey?”

“Every day,” I tell her, confused now. “I work for a hockey team.”

“No, I know, but you work in public relations. How often do you discuss the actual game?”

That gives me pause, and I really don’t want to answer that truthfully.

So I lie.

Everyone lies, right?

Vinny said he loved me, and then he didn’t speak to me again for years.