Holly watched Laura’s face as she slept. The purple birthmark in the shape of Alaska just above her right eye was the same as her own; it was like watching herself sleep. But why Laura was able to sleep soundly, while Holly was cursed with insomnia, nobody knew. The doctor suggested that amber-colored light before bed might help to stimulate her melatonin production, so her mother placed special nightlights throughout the room, but it didn’t help. Holly was always tired.
At 3 a.m., a light came on in the hallway. Holly watched through the crack in the door as a shadow moved down the hall. Perhaps this was her father getting ready for his morning run, she thought, although 3 a.m. was pretty early to be up. The door creaked open; Holly closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.
Why was her father wearing boots? She squinted, letting in just enough of the scene to conclude the boots were not her father’s—they weren’t boots at all—it was the sound of hoofs click-clacking on the wooden floors.…
