Tom awoke with a start; every year it was the same.
Every year around this time, Tom had the same dream.
A woman, in a long, gray dress, standing by an oven.
She turned; with a dark smile the woman said, Room
for one more, Tom.
Then
his arms and legs were pulled out of their sockets.
Every year it was the same.
The
woman. The oven.
Room
for one more, Tom.
He
laughed a warbly little laugh and thought, It's
just a dream.