Autumn

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August 8th.

Rain.

Finny.

Sylvie.

Death.

My body forced itself out of its sleep. 

It was a dream.

Just a dream.

It wasn't the real world, just the dream world.

Dreamworld or not it had the same impact. 

Lifting my hand I ran it across my cheek, It's not wet from my tears but I can feel the dried streaks that made their escape while I slept. It was just a dream but I shed the very tears I would have shed if it hadn't been. 

For a second there I witnessed what life without Finny was like. I had felt the pain of losing him and had felt how it would feel to have my lungs expand with the same air he would never breathe again. I had shared the grief of The Mothers and Jack. I had built a life without Finny in it and somehow had learned to accept it and be happy. 

I said my goodbyes to my bestfriend.

The boy I loved.  

I never wanted to experience something like that again. The thought of losing Finny in such a way had tears building in my eyes again. A colossal dam on the brink of destruction. 

Looking at the time I realize it's only 4 in the morning. 

I still have time with Finny before he has to pick up Sylvie. 

Then it's just us. Only me and my Finny. 

I turn back to where Finny lies only to find where he once lay empty.  I rack my brain wondering if our confessions were all a part of a dream too. Had I fallen asleep reading again? Or was that part of the dream as well?  It wasn't, It couldn't have been, my body still remembers him, I remember him.

Throwing the covers off my body I place my feet on the ground and make my way to the door but just as I'm about to pull it in my direction it's already being pushed from the other side. I don't waste any time peaking my head around to see through the gap. 

Finny

It's Finny.

I release a breath as I throw myself into his arms.

 He's warm and smells like Finny. 

It was all just a dream.  

He'll make it to 19.

His story isn't over, his life isn't over.

This isn't it.

He will do so, so much more. 

He'll go off to college and he'll celebrate his birthday.

He'll get haircuts and oil changes regularly.

He'll bite at the hang nails on his thumb and he'll buy a million more CDs for us to listen to in his car.

On August 8th Phineas Smith didn't die.

I didn't just imagine how my life and others would have turned out, I had lived through it in my head. I had healed and moved on in a way. 

But it wasn't real. 

It was just a dream.

Dragging Finny back to the bed I sit him down before seating myself beside him. Our thighs smushed together my chest to his stomach, his breath the only sound in the room I could hear, it was the only sound I was willing to hear at that moment. I never thought that one breath of air would be so important to me but at this moment it's the only thing I can concentrate on. The steady build and fall of Finnys chest where my head rests as it took in oxygen, the thud of his heartbeat against my ear, the smell of him. 

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