I woke up, eyes bleary with sleep, my damp blankets wrapped around my sweating body driving me awake.
Through the dim light making its way from the crack of my purple curtains, I saw her standing by my bedside, tired red eyes widening and hazy mind trying to decipher if this was a hallucination or not.
She bent down over me, a feeling of warmth and safety blanketing me as she adjusted my covers, tucking them around me with a kind face of someone who was taking care of their sick child. I noticed her black skirts and long buttoned sleeves, her starched white apron standing out in sharp contrast in the semi-darkness. I turned my face towards her and noted the straight parting of her dark hair down the middle of her scalp and her tight bun.
Focused on her task, she wasn’t looking at me, but I felt reassured. My eyelids started to droop and I sighed, sinking into my bed.
I closed my eyes, and as I opened them again, hoping I had been dreaming, I saw I was alone again, the space beside my nightstand empty. My feeling of comfort had disappeared along with her.
To this day, I still question whether or not she was truly there. I never saw her again, as we made renovations to the room shortly after, taking out the last remnants of the original walls. Whose to say, really?