Nightmares. Bad Dreams.
They won't leave me ever.
This time it is just my Dad and me, standing near a new red car. And he is talking to me, "Eira, you like it?"
"Like it? I can't believe this. You finally got it for me!"
He just smiles at me, waiting for me to go embrace him, envelope my slender arms and whisper a thank you, but I stand there, looking at my new car at a thousand angles, taking pictures, selfies with it.
I can feel my Dad's urge to come hug me, but he is worried I might not like it and he is fine with it. That's what who my dad was, never complaining, never shouting. Always adjusting.
He was a great man, and I let him down.
It pricks me in my heart like a thousand needles.
"Let's go for a drive?" He asks me with the broad smile still plastered on his face, but I am so engaged in the admiration, I hardly notice. I am hesitant to take up his offer as I want him to leave but I finally make up my mind and tell him, "Okay, but just to the junction, I have a party at 4," which I can sense, is a big lie.
And I get inside the car and stamp my feet on the accelerator. The feeling is overwhelming and I love it, but as soon as I am out of the gate, something crashes at my car and the glass is all over the place, and so is the blood.
But I am not hurt, I am not even scared. I just stare at my Dad's limp body and start laughing.
I am about to scream out, and I know I am sweating. The scene is red and it's killing me.
And then out of the blue, out of nowhere there is a boy standing there, and the scene is all blue.
And there is a smile on his face.
That smile is my drizzle in the desert.
My snowflake in the summer.