The wind is the goddess who first learned to fly.

There he is again, still strangely unrecognizable yet painful familiar with the same song playing softly in the background. He smiles, the sun still blindingly swallowing him from behind. I can never see his face clearly, just flashes and fragments of what I assume to be a memory of the time I no longer remember.

We’re driving along a sunny coast and the sun, orange and majestic, chasing us as it starts setting.

Our hands lace together and I smile at the stranger sitting beside me.

Then once again, like every other dreams I had before this, he says something inaudible then leans forward and kisses my forehead.

Before I can see anything clearly, the car crashes and he’s sent flying out of his seat, head slams against the windshield. Tiny pieces of shattered glass fly everywhere and freeze in space as if time has stopped. I scream voicelessly, desperately reaching for the figure freefalling right in front of me. The moment our hands slip, I see that satisfying smile again. Why?

Then the next thing I see is… Darkness.

Flashes of light. Heartwrenching cries. People in white. Many faces I don’t know. And the distinct smell of disinfectants.

“Mina. Can you hear us? Please stay with us.”