By Maiyeko Singi

Silvio dreamed that he was on a floating bed. He lay flat on his back next to Chris, their fingers entwined. The rising sun reflected in Christoff's eyes over narrow cobble stoned streets, they kissed and fucked in a sterile white room. He realized in part, that he was dreaming about a dream.

At 7:00am Maria sat up and swung her feet onto the rail so that she was perched on the edge of the bed. Nana was moving around in the kitchen making the familiar sounds of breakfast. Bacon sizzled, potatoes were sliced, juice served. The kids would be off to school soon she was thinking she'd have a coffee, drive to K-Mart and stand behind a familiar register. It seemed mundane but it was the life that she knew, one she was used to. It was the one she had to keep. Usually Silvio would have been up. She realized he'd probably sleep out the morning drifting on the edge of waking. The strength in herself that could always be counted on felt unhinged. The mother Madonna gazed at her from the dresser as though the road Maria's imagination was about to take her down was not a concern. Maria turned and looked at Silvio, thought about the way he always jerked in his sleep, the way he sometimes mumbled incoherent musings, the funny way he'd get erections when he dreamed of her. She smiled and let herself feel what she hadn't wanted her daughter to feel about a man - that he might complete her.

By noon the house was dead silent. Silvio moved himself from underneath the blanket realizing the hour. He scratched his head aloof and wondered why Maria hadn't bothered to wake him, normally he would have been cursed to hell and back before being allowed to stay in unless there was good reason. He flipped on the small TV in the bedroom, scratched the itch he felt welling up just below the skin of his scrotum. The wisp of hair sounded like sandpaper against his balls. "When did I get home" he smirked. The sky was the clear blue of fall through the window. His cock greeted the sun and the day with a little salute as though re-embarked on the task of why he was so tired. "That was some serious fucking,” he told the walls. "My head hurts we did it so long."

There was a little mud on the bed, his scalp became all prickly and itchy at the thought of Maria seeing it. "Was she home when I got here?" It might not have been so bad if he'd have been home on time, if he'd just had a long honest days work, she'd let it slide. He opened the bedroom door slightly and called "Nana." There was no answer, no shuffling of fuzzy house shoes in the kitchen or across the carpeted living room. "Nana was probably uptown today” he figured. He couldn't remember her schedule but knew that she cleaned a house on Sycamore. "Nana" he called out again, and waited.

The bedroom door sounded like a scalded cat when opened. "The hinges need oil" he heard himself think. "The hinges need a fucking house, that's what they need." He started down the short hall with his hard on pointing the way. He drug the bedspread along with him to the wash closet and dumped it in the machine. The water started like rain falling in a distant canyon, his dick made a soft