Rebecca woke to the sound of rain against the turret window and a memory that tasted like thunder. For a moment she could not tell whether she had been sleeping or standing in the middle of a battlefield—grey light, the metallic ring of armor, and a name whispered in a voice she could almost place: DFW.
"Company," DFW said. "And correction. I help stories align so they stop hurting. I read the lines back gently and, if necessary, cross out a hurtful clause." dfw knigh rebecca dream free