I dreamt about you last night. I went to a place not quite familiar. I spoke to people whom I never knew in real life. But at that moment, it seemed as if I knew them for so long. They told me you were gone. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t until I saw you lying on the ground. Lifeless. There was a gunshot wound on your forehead. Your eyes were closed. You didn’t seem dead to me. You appeared to be just deep in your slumber. I held your body and I pulled it into the bathroom. I told them I want to wash your body before taking you back and handing you over to your family. I placed you seated by the bathroom wall. I sat beside you as I reached for the shower knob. I turned it on. The water came pouring down the two of us. I touched your cold face. Everything was surreal. I just could not believe that you were dead, that what I was holding was not a person anymore but just a body, that you were gone. I cried. I was filled with anguish and regret. I didn’t want to lose you. In reality, that would not have been the case. I would not have held you. I would not have cried when you died. Because in reality, I didn’t have you so I couldn’t lose you. But in that dream, it felt as if you were a part of me. And I was a part of you. And so I cried. When I woke up, I was relieved that everything was nothing but a dream. I don’t know what I would do if that was real. I don’t know how to accept our wretched fate. I don’t know how to put my broken pieces back together after losing you. It’s a good thing I’ll never have to worry about that. Because you may be a part of me, but I’ll never be a part of you.