Hyukjae

                The car was cold; even though the heater was on. The leather seats were hard and uncomfortable; even though they were made from top grade cushions. He was warm; even though he just came in from the cold winter air. He was so far away; even though his hand was caressing mine. It was as though I wasn’t in the car. It was like I was experiencing things from afar, as if in a dream.

                What a scary thought that would be though. If this was all just a dream – what would that even mean? That I’m a sick bastard for dreaming of a scenario like this, or that I’m a sick bastard for even doubting for a minute that this wasn’t real? Of course this was happening. Of course this was real. It had to be. If this was a dream, I would know it. I’ve realized that while you are asleep and inside that dreamland, you don’t have any time to doubt the reality of it all. You’re so caught up in the moment and things progress with such fervor that you don’t stop to think about foolish things like dreams.

                So no, this can’t be a dream. I was a fool for ever thinking, but still. I find myself unable to comprehend the things around me. It’s like they’re fading away into the background, moving further from my reach and it scares me. Because the thought that he might fade too, I am forced to embrace this reality, because I cannot lose him. No matter what. If he disappears, then so do I. I am nothing without him, that is what I’ve come to realize more than anything, and that’s why I have to stay grounded. I have to pull myself back into this world, even though I am floating away.

                “You okay?” He asks me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I blink and smile and look at him and my heart fills with determination.

                “Fine. I’m good.” I nod in reassurance, but I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t accept that, yet he puts the gear into drive and we’re back on the road in less than a minute.

                “Alright then. We’re almost done, baby let’s go. I promise we are almost home.” He grips my hand in his and his warmth seeps right through me, but then his words register and I’m reminded of a scene that flashes through my mind with a painful familiarity.

                I’m standing inside our house and he is looking at me with his adoring eyes. He walks over to me and wraps one arm around my waist while his other hand brushed the hair from my eyes. He leans close to me and softly kisses my lips with so much affection and love that it’s pouring from the seams. Then, with sudden clarity, compared to the before scene that had been smudged with something akin to fingerprints on a camera lens, a wine glass falls from the kitchen counter and shatters into a thousand pieces on the floor.

                The windshield wipers clear the snow away only to be covered again. We’re back on the road although it appears as though we’ve made a far distance from the crematory. To my left is my beautiful man, and to my back is the beautiful blue urn. It truly was beautiful. Exquisite, elegant, with a design that reminded me of something I’d find in my grandmother’s basement, but also something that should be kept within the greatest of art museums. It was like something out of a dream.