Harold Hill was fast asleep – or at least, he thought he had been – when he heard his wife's voice drift up from beside him.
"Harold, do we have any blueberries?" Marian murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.
In his barely-conscious state, Harold thought that he might have imagined the nonsensical inquiry,
but summoned what small amount of energy he could to let her know he was listening just in case she really
asking him something. The best he could manage on such short notice was a mumbled, inarticulate "wha?"
"Blueberries." Her voice was clearer this time, though her meaning still baffled him. "Do we have any in the house, do you think?"
He opened his eyes reluctantly, expecting them to be assailed by morning sunshine for which he did not feel remotely ready – but it was every bit as pitch black as when he'd had them closed.
In the darkness, he instinctively reached out for Marian, letting his hand rest gently on her arm when he found it.
He didn't even know where to begin in answering her, both because her question was so inexplicable and because he didn't feel awake enough to form recognizable words or thoughts.
Read the rest via the link in the description!