"Did you hear the clock strike when it shouldn't have?" Her voice trembled like autumn leaves on brittle branches.
"Only in dreams, darling. In dreams, it dances." He replied, voice smooth like dark chocolate melting in phantom heat.
"There was a tree, twisted and ancient. Do you remember?" A question, more a plea, hung in the air.
"I remember shadows, creeping like lies in the pale moonlight." His words dripped with the honey of despair.