There's something so perfect about the life you have with your husband. It had been six years of marriage now, crawling onto seven, but lately, you can't help but shake that there's something wrong. Like there's something artificial about it all.

"What do you mean?" Slade asks, slowly, not looking at you as he chops some vegetables. You keep having these strange dreams, like there's something in your mind forcing them out. "Did you remember to take your pills this morning?"