Every dreamcatcher was also a trap.
“I love you, Douglas. You have always been a good son to me, and I love you so very much. Give me a kiss, now.”
He kissed her; her hand stole out and caressed his beard-sandy cheek. Henry could hardly bear to look, but he did look, was as helpless as any fly caught in any spiderweb. Every dreamcatcher was also a trap.
