Sometimes I dream.

I don't know where I am, whether I'm dead, and just in limbo, or if I'm alive, but trapped somewhere inside my own mind. There's nothing but darkness most of the time, and I don't even know how long it's been like that. But sometimes, I dream.

It's always just the two of us. Sometimes it's warm and sunny and we're together just enjoying each other's company and the feeling of soft grass on bare feet. Sometimes it's raining, and we're inside a little cabin in the woods, curled under a big woolen blanket in front of a roaring fire. Sometimes we make love, and it's like waking up to a world I never knew existed. Sometimes we don't, and that's okay, too.

We make love in the grass and it feels so real I could swear I feel a twig digging into my shoulder while he moves inside me. Something else inside me moves, too, and I realize it's too late. Wherever I am now, he's not. It's all too late.