The dreamcatcher hung in the sunny window, feathers stirring slightly, crystal beads glinting.
It didn’t stop the bad dreams coming to him every night, didn’t catch the creeping menace, whispering voices in dark corners, haunting his sleeping hours, accusing him of having failed her and showing why it was his fault she had left.
The dreamcatcher was her first gift – even before she’d moved in – to give him sweet dreams of her, she’d said.
He took the thing and threw it out of the window.
That night he slept well for the first time in over a year.
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