interview about that winter

i think it was during winter. first snow of the year.

i was waiting for someone or something that i no longer remember. my hands were trembling while my feet gently left its print on the thin layer of snow that was forming. i sat on a bench in the middle of a boulevard, crowded with friends and couples hanging their last nights together before christmas. if i'm not wrong, it was the honk of a car, or the bark of a dog? no. it was the cry of a baby whose stroller bumped into a pole. that cry had caught my eyes' attention towards that direction. i was facing towards the street to take a closer look, but that weeping baby soon turned into a blur since a familiar silhouette stole the focus. it was him. on the other side of the street, smiling at me.

my first instinct was to avert my eyes. a shiver went to my spine. was it really him? 'i must be out of my mind', is the first thing that i thought. i turned my neck to take another glance. he was still there. his smile was still there on the other side. i couldn't believe it. maybe this is just an awful dream. maybe two years wasn't enough for me to get over him. i swore that i already grieved enough, but that mustn't be the case. i remember repeating those phrases in my head over and over again. but the snow felt so cold, and this metalic scent that the bench left lingering in my fingertips felt so real. at this point, i was feeling a bit of thrill to be honest.

i was thinking to either confront him or walk away and act like all of this was a fever dream. but that thinking was no longer necessary when i felt a finger poke my parka. i gazed to see who it was, and it was him.

i think that seeing him from a distance, and seeing him closely is a completely different story. from afar, it felt surreal, a mere illusion my brain created to cope with his death, but closely... it sort of creeped me out. his gleaming eyes and perfect smile was

something i didn't remember. in my last moments with him he just looked desperate to live, his skin dwindling, his body decaying per second. it felt unfamiliar to see him all dandy and healthy. when was the last time i saw him like that? perhaps at this moment was when he offered me his hand...in second thoughts, i think i first offered my hand for a handshake. we shook hands and then...he was warm. so warm. after that, telling you the truth, my memories are a bit hazy. the fact that his hand was hot just proved that he was still there, living. that made my skin crawl..look! i just got goosebumps by thinking about it.

to be fair, who wouldn't be surprised to see someone they thought were dead right in front of you? i was right next to him on his deathbed. i saw him as he was being buried underneath. i knew i had to believe it was all an ilusion, but that warmth during the handshake wouldn't leave my mind! my heart beat really quickly. i think he sat next to me on the bench and told me something.

something that i couldn't hear because my heart was so loud. at this point my mind went blank. it was just my heart going thump, thump, thump, heavily and fastly.

his lips were moving, i do remember that. mouthing words and his tongue rolling out phrases that my eardrums refused to accept. it was as if i had muted the whole world. i couldn't listen to the footsteps of the bystanders, or the murmurs and chatterings of the ladies close to us. my mind was just a pure abyss. nothing. completely empty.

then i looked at it. my reflection on his clear eyes. this was the point i losed it completely. my heart was about to burst.

he was real. he really is there, next to me, breathing, smiling, talking. in the same bench. same place. sharing the same air. the thrill i had felt before turned into madness. i was terrified. remembering my reflection on those clear eyes of his just makes me shake in fear, see? my fingers won't stop quivering now.

anyways, going back, that mind of mine that had gone blank was suddenly gushed with emotions i can't explain. i was dripping sweat in the middle of a snow and my head ached so bad i thought i was going to vomit. my body went stale. i couldn't move. but the moment he opened his mouth, and i heard his voice for the first time in a while, is when i screamed. i let out the loudest and most obnoxious shriek in my life. i shouted. screeched. i saw his hand trying to hold my arm, and i stood and dashed to the streets. i kept screaming. i think i never stopped screaming. i ran and ran. i did notice a few people glancing at me concerned, though it's understandable.

i remember i was about to slip several times, since concrete and snow don't match. but i kept on going, ran and ran. my hands on my ears, refusing to hear anything. my eyes squinted, refusing to see anything. i knew that if i saw him one more time, i was going to lose it. die right then and there. i was going to die of a heart attack, or who knows, i could even be capable of throwing myself in a dashing car or jump off a bridge. if i saw him one more time...thinking about it just makes my stomach sick. i just knew that i wasn't going to live anymore.

when i was running i wanted to organize my thoughts a bit. i know it isn't the best situation to do so, but i had to calm myself a bit or either i would've died of exhaustion. i was wondering why me? why is it that i suddenly see him again? i never was a dreamer. i was never good at imagining things, so it was weird for me to think that it was all a too-good illusion my own mind created. it had passed two years already since his death too, i didn't remember those small details he had either. then my mind thought, divine punishment! ...but why? i don't believe in god, and i think i never will. though you're right, why punishment? isn't seeing someone you lost actually something good? why did i assume it was a punishment? why didn't i break in tears of joy when i saw him? i don't know. maybe i never was a person good with emotions. rather than feeling happiness to see him, my mind automatically twisted it to a weird thrill and remorse.

right. and while i finished running, panting, desperately gasping for air, i realized my feet left me in front of the police station. a cop, who saw my unflattering form, immediately lead me in for a cup of water. as soon as i stepped inside, i started to cry. i don't know why. i just cried. the cops looked so confused. my heart pulled strings in my body that made me feel weird. his face just wouldn't leave my mind. so i poured it all out. i bawled as i told the officers, as i vented my too complex brain. i told them about his death,

how i started seeing him, everything...i told them everything. and for a second there, i felt complete relief.

and that's it i think. that's the story of how i ended up here, in jail, well, cause let's be honest here, who wouldn't arrest a person who just admitted they murdered their own friend?

(a/n: hello thank you for reading! this is my first time writing so i'm really nervous. i'm practicing english really hard so please tell me if i have any errors. constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms.! thank you)