Today I read:
In our dream, wolves interrupt us from finishing our meal. We flee through the city, and wolves hunt us in packs. They drive us up avenues, root us from subway stations. Occasionally we catch sight of one another, spy the banner of Jane’s hair weaving through buildings ahead of us. Our lungs seize up with burning. One of us screams. One of our hands stretches out towards Jane, grazing her hair, which coils around our wrist like a lash. Our skin there starts smoking.