She was there, sitting cross-legged on his dashboard. Her dainty head, turned away from him, was softly swerving between her round shoulders.
Her eyes compulsively followed the road, tracing the blur of lonely street lights.
Softly, as if waving in the wind, her feet swerved, producing bell chimes only Averie heard.
"Go away," he whispered, his gaze losing focus. "Not now."
But the sound of wind chimes continued in his ear, whispering to him to look at her.
His extreme dedication to the role had come back to bite him in this unique way. A new form of lunacy had returned to torture him.
"Are you okay, Mr. Quinn?" asked the cameraman. "You seem to be sweating."
"I..."
He turned to look at the aloof lady on his dashboard, and all the words left him.
"I am seeing a dream..."
"Yes?" The man was baffled. "When, now?"
"She just won't go away. Look at her."
"Okay, but please keep your eyes forward."
