A/N: MATURE warning, it's not horrifically graphic (I'm not any good at that), but just in case that's not your thing you'll probably want to move on. Thanks for reading.
Day Five:
Here is
one of the
worst things
about having
someone
you love die: It
happens again
every single morning.
I dreamed about you last night. I was so vivid. We're together on that balcony in New York. But in my dream I didn't just tell you how happy I was. I told you that I loved you. You were so happy. Your hands were everywhere all at once, in my hair, running up my thigh. You were touching me there. I reached between us and wrapped my hand around you. I slid down on to you and together we rode out the storm. By all accounts it should have been a happy dream. But then I woke up and I realized that you were gone. All the chances, missed connections, and dreams they're all gone.
Everything. Is. Just. Gone.