You remember your last day (almost) clearly.

You died on November 13th, the day after you passed a class you had been struggling the whole semester and the day before you confessed your feelings to Liz.

The contradiction of an utterly happy moment of your life and something potentially life-changing gives you goosebumps.

It’s tragically perfect for a drama movie, but realistically awful for the situation in hand.

The cause of death… well, your cause of death, should be clear. But that’s the only part of the day you can’t recall.

Memories come and go, but mostly it’s just a mess. Images and voices of your loved ones, and also the last papers you read at Uni.

And the coffee smell, so freaking real, as if it were a monday like any other day in your living life.

Iced coffee before calculus every monday morning were your favourites.

If you think about it chronologically, you remember setting up the alarm, having cereal for breakfast, someone’s bag hitting you right in the face when you finally sat on the subway, your stop, your friends, the note taking… the...

Mary was late as always.

You left the class laughing your head off of a joke Carmen made, and you told Liz you’d join her to buy some coffee.

(You didn’t want to start the day-before telling her you liked her by not joining her, even though you were a bit low on cash to buy yourself some iced coffee).

And then it stops.

It’s like you’re watching an old movie and the playing stops, the record burning itself in the important bit.

And you’re pretty sure it is the important part, because it’d make more sense to remember. If you remember how you died, you can actually believe this.

(That you died).

It wouldn’t look like a dream.

It’s comforting though, not remembering.

Maybe you can keep it as a dream a little bit longer.

Just a really long dream.

***

You followed Matthew to his house.

He didn’t exactly talk after telling you his name and you’re glad, it’s helping you to think about the facts, and the things you don’t understand just yet.

The only information you do get on the way to his house is the next one:

1.- You can’t touch anyone without feeling like hell.

2.- If you get away from Matthew, everything starts to black out. (You noticed this one, because you stopped to stare at a baby who surely looked like he could see you back).

So you stay as close as you can without touching him.

For a second, you think that maybe if you stay behind and fade away, maybe it’ll be like those dreams where you die and wake up, but truth is you’re kind of scared of trying.

You’d rather stay with Matthew, the only real thing at the moment.

He’s agreed to help you but he hasn’t asked a question about what you need or what the hell is happening. He said it himself, this must be some kind of TV show, because if this is really happening, there’s no way to explain it rationally.

The room with the kid and the other one with no doors and just the voice.

(You’re thinking the second room might be God, but you’re not catholic and if you say that outloud everything will be too real too fast and you can’t).

They told you you had a month, and no one can see you, just Matthew, which is weird because you… you don’t know him.

Or do you? Something looks oddly familiar about him.

You don’t dare to ask. Mostly because you need time to think about it yourself and because he looks quiet in a way that it unnerves you to disturb him.

You think he should look intrigued or scared, not… well, sad. But he agreed to help you, so no matter what happens, you’ll try him to get him to like you.

Besides, if you do have one month, maybe Matthew will be able to contact Liz somehow and she’ll find out about your feelings.

Why is it that you were so close?

Why is it so unfair?

Fucking come on, you were 24 hours or less away from telling her everything.

“Liz,” you would have started.

She’d probably be confused, or worried, or expectant, or curious.

Why is it…

“I love you.”

Damn it, why is it so unfair?