she.

Goya.

i dreamt of her last night. and them. all of them around the table right next to us. and i saw myself watching them from a distance, not knowing what to do, wishing there'd be a cloak to veil my presence. then she came and talked to me as we'd reconciled, and she hugged me from behind. it felt so real that i could remember the texture of her grey hoodie when her arms brushed against my face. i was intimidated. i thought my blood must have frozen and ceased to flow. i knew the past had just come back and haunted me like the spirit in the red room. but instead of screaming and banging on the wooden door, i opened my eyes wide to watch myself die.