amanda comes to me in the dark, she’s been dead for a little over 48 hours, but still she comes to me. i see her ravaged, i see her broken, her lip split, a foot missing a shoe, hobbling. she comes to me with one arm limp down her side, the other reaching out for me. and as i breathe heavy into the dark, i can see her trying to say my name, trying to say something, some stark refusal that she is dead. i shiver and sweat and wait for her. i wait for her to reach our bed and take my life for hers.