Araz Gholami

I wrote, “Today you came to my dream again. It felt like the day I first saw you. Yet, I felt all the events of these past years. Every moment you weren’t there. You should have been, but you weren’t. You should have kissed me, but you didn’t. You should have wrapped your hands around my neck, but you didn’t. Your eyes should have shone, but they didn’t. You should have stood in front of me, but you didn’t. You should have said you loved me, but you didn’t. Yet this time was different. You were walking beside me. You were holding my hand. Your hand was cold. I felt your pulse. I held your hand tighter. I held it with both my hands to warm it up. It didn’t. I brought your hand to my mouth and breathed on it. Still no warmth. Your hand was cold. And your gaze too. You were smiling, but your smile felt cold, as if it needed a spark to turn it into a heartbreaking cry.

I took off my coat and draped it over your shoulders. You looked at me. Stunned. As if your gaze too was cold. I stood in front of you and hugged you. I kissed your forehead. Felt the chill of your skin. I hugged you tighter, wanting to transfer all the warmth of my body to you. I wanted your eyes to shine, like that first day, like the sidelong glances you used to give me. Just like the first day. When you were in my arms, your sob broke. You cried. Your hiccups echoed into the sky. I held you. Kissed your forehead. Kissed your lips. You were cold. Very cold. I pressed you harder to me. Still cold. Colder. Suddenly your hands went limp. Your legs went weak. You tried to slip from my arms. I sat on the ground and held you again. Your eyes were cold. Your face was cold. Your skin pale. It felt like you had been dead for years. Years. I held your lifeless body. I called your name. Louder and louder I called. But it felt like you had been dead for years. I laid my head on yours. I called your name. No answer. Louder, still no answer. I laid my head on yours. Cold. I cried. As much as I could. I cried until I, too, felt cold.”