I remember the last time you spoke.
I dreamt we were in the mountains sitting on a picnic table talking. It was a perfect day and a perfect conversation.
Until somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized you couldn't be there. That this wasn't possible, this perfect moment, it couldn't exist.
You stopped talking to me, mid-sentence. You got up from the table and walked away. I will never forget how disappointed you looked.
For years now I have dreamed about you and you never speak.
Until last night.
We were by the beach in the summer. You told me about a pair of boots you were thinking about getting. Boots. Which is so strangely insignificant its almost frustrating. But you spoke.
Then I woke up with tears. I would give anything in the world to talk about boots with you.
Photo from here.