20: Chris

Before dawn, Chris jolts awake from a nightmare where Larissa eats nuts and can’t breathe while he frantically searches for EpiPens. The helplessness mirrors his mother’s death, reviving grief and guilt. He tries grounding with lights, cold water, and holding Woofarine, but the anxiety lingers.

Chris reflects on therapy and support groups that helped after his mom died, noting his sleep had improved. Now, however, his worry has transferred to Larissa. He resists calling her at 4:30 a.m., unsure how to explain that she occupies his thoughts even in dreams.

He traces the shift to the lake weekend, when extended time with Larissa intensified his impulse to check on her well-being. He rationalizes it as concern for her severe allergy and his hypervigilance after grief, especially given Mike’s overlooked pantry risks at the cabin. Yet he recognizes it’s more than responsibility—he wants to look at her, talk, and simply be near her.

By the end, Chris acknowledges his growing feelings, wishing he had been the one to drive Larissa home and savor quiet time together. Watching Woofarine, he realizes the dog—and he himself—may be happiest when he and Larissa are in the same place.