Attending His Funeral

Since he left, this is the first time we've met in a dream. This is the second time he's put a white shirt on me, and he looks just as handsome and charming as he did the first time. I wanted to smile and welcome him back, but somehow, as I smiled, I started to cry. Still, I forced myself to look a little less miserable.

He slowly came closer and reached out to wipe the tears from my face. He stood before me, looking at me with the same gentle expression as always. I felt so embarrassed. I was always powerless to resist him. No matter how many times I faced him, I got just as shy. I asked him, "Did you miss me?" He said, "So much." In that moment, all the strength I'd tried so hard to fake crumbled away in his arms.

I don't know how long I cried. When I woke up, I was still lying in bed. I gave a helpless, bitter smile and put the photo I was holding into my suitcase.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any similarities are purely coincidental. Do not imitate.