I had a dream before I met him. His eyes all silver and rippling like a tide. I'd touched his skin, hard like a rock, smooth like marble.
"Who are you," I'd asked.
"Nothing," was his only answer, as he looked down at me in what seemed to be contempt. I wanted to tell him that he was lying; he was standing right there he couldn't be nothing. I couldn't form the words; I couldn't bring up the sounds to my lips.
"Leave me," he growled and took a step away. I didn't pursue him. Not yet.