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Sleep came quickly last night. The comfort of a warm bed, the quietness of the house, and the arms of Chris wrapped around me.

The morning sun beams through the window. Light sits on Chris's calm face. He's still sleeping so I try not to move. I look at him. He's so peaceful. His hair is light in the sun. I can see some streaks of red. The stubble on his chin and upper lip is also a light red. His eyelashes are long and blonde. His lips are chapped and pink. Some blood and dirt covers his face and neck. I lick my finger and lightly rub the blood off.

His eyes flutter open at the touch. He smiles. "Good morning, beautiful."

I smile back. "Good morning, handsome."

He lets out a chuckle. "I look like hell."

"We all look like hell." I turn onto my back so I can look at him more. "I'm sorry I was so mean."

"I don't blame you," he says.

"I was so rude," I continue.

"You had every right. You had to do something that not many people can do. You were hurt and exhausted," he says. "We should've come sooner."

"Why didn't you?"

"We ran into a few big groups of infected. Had to take a different road. Got a little lost and had to spend the night on the road. Then everyone thought you two were dead, that it would be a waste of gas." He looks up at the ceiling, his blue eyes bright. "I begged them to turn around. Anne helped. Jose didn't agree, but finally we turned around."

"Just in time," I whisper.

"Just in time," he repeats. He doesn't look at me. He's thinking of yesterday night. Finding me with a gun pressed against my temple. Blood sprayed across my face. I was going to give up. I was going to kill myself.

The thought saddens me. I turn away and pull the blankets up to my face. He puts his hand on mine and gives me a reassuring squeeze. I stare at a picture of a group of girls on the nightstand beside the bed. They look so young, happy, and alive. I close my eyes and try to relive the good times in my life. I can't think of a single memory.

"It sucks to not be able to remember the happy things in life," I whisper.

"I can remind you of some," Chris says. I don't reply. He starts, "We knew each other since we were young. I remember passing by you every day in middle school when I was on my way to science class. You were going to your math class that was across from my class. I remember always trying to catch you at the right time so I could smile and wave. We only had one class together, so I tried to see you as much as I could throughout the day. I thought you were so beautiful. Ever since I met you. You're a ray of sunshine. Your laugh is contagious. Eyes are breathtaking. Your voice is angelic. You're everything in one person. Everything good."

I don't look at him. I can't remember middle school. I can't picture his face younger than it is. I just don't remember.

He continues. "We got closer during high school. We would always go to the park and hangout under the trees in summer. And when it got colder we bundled up in blankets and drink hot chocolate at my house. We were close friends."

"What happened to us?" I ask.

"You met James."

"Boyfriend?" I ask.

"Boyfriend," he says. "He was an ass. He treated you like shit. Yet you were too in love to see it."

"Why was he mean?" I question. "What would he do?"

Chris pauses before he says, "You wanted me to remind you of happy things."

"But I'm curious," I say.

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