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Father Donnelly drove the car down the dirt road, heading toward the chalet. He didn't want to do so, but it was what Suki had suggested. 

The morning sun was warm and inviting and his mind was flooding back to memories of the last month; it all had felt surreal like a dream. More akin to a nightmare.

Since his window was down, he thought he could hear the sound of children playing ahead. But that was impossible, since the fire... 

"How long have I been asleep?" a voice asked in the backseat; it startled the hell out of him.

"Mayganne?" Donnelly hit the brakes and he turned to see her lying in the backseat, covered in a blanket. 

"Yes?" Mayganne said as she sat up. She looked at Donnelly, trying to read his expression.

Donnelly's memories were like a tide, a floodgate of emotion, garble, transmissions of things that happened, or will happen or a dream of happening. "Well, how are you?" 

"I'm fine," Mayganne replied as she scrambled over onto the front seat. "But I sure could use a coffee."