Things happen so quickly sometimes. This isn't to say that time crawls in beauty, but the clocks around me seemed to be adrenalized. One moment your boyfriend is leaving gentle kisses along your neck as you strum your guitar. The next, you stand over his casket in the church, with the foreboding occupation leaving you heartbroken and soggy from head to toe. Alex looked cold, sleeping in his hexagonal bed before my eyes. There was almost no sign that anything had been wrong; heart attacks are kind enough to keep the flesh in pristine condition, only taking what lies underneath: the pulse I so dearly missed. In fact, there were many things I already missed. The way his hair was never tidy. The sneer he'd give the jocks to let them know he was mine, regardless of their sexual orientation, as if I was enough to turn any man gay. The free six inch subs he'd sneak from Subway when his manager wasn't looking. His 6 inch. Everything seemed so distant, like a dream that gets interrupted and you can't remember everything you felt.
"I'm so sorry, Taylor."
I turn to see the melancholy face of Alex's priest. He places a hand on my shoulder and walks toward the exit, leaving me, the first to come and the last to leave, alone with my young messiah. I place my hand on his pale cheek. His eyes open. I recoiled, tripping and falling to my rear out of fright. "Oh shit."
Did Alex just open his eyes?! I get up slowly and look in the coffin to see Alex, unmoved, eyes open as though he was listening to another history lecture. "Must have been a reflex," I said to myself, trying to slow my heart.
One eye closed and then reopened. The corners of Alex's gorgeous lips rose slyly.
"Guess again."
