Fear of the Unknown
by Allan MacDonell

In the mornings, sometimes, she finds herself before sunrise between sleep and wakefulness in an undefended state where the old questions still pretend to apply.

Where is he? She is in the outer court at the Hollywood Bowl. The headliner’s start time has been called, and he has not called. She sits one of three people in a box for four. The open sky above with its far off starlight illuminates nothing beyond the mystery of the moon and that one open seat. How long have I been lying here? She is drowsy on a rocky Sardinia beach. Grainy pebbles mold to her protrusions. Her towel has had a chance to dry since her last swim. He’d said he was going into the water, only for a moment, just for a dip and he’d be back.