Free Writing (scratched out—never finished?)
I dreamed that Jennifer was hurt. I woke up in tears. And needed no one else to tell me what it all meant.
I should have known. About Brian. Me, of all people. I should have known that looks can be the greatest lie. A lie that everyone believes. And wants to believe, very very much.
I knew. I knew about Brian. I read him like a book. And he was the kind whose first sentence tells you what the last will be. But sometimes you read on anyway, balancing like a wirewalker between fear and hope.
When they took him away, I was in the Office. And when he looked back at me, I swear, his blue eyes were so beautiful, so horribly beautiful. No one ever told me that Death could be so beautiful.