It’s a reoccurring dream that I keep locked in my head, where my eyes become hourglasses and the grains of sand scuff the surface. Everything is a blur. I can see it, but it’s never been too clear. Granted, it hasn’t been clear for some time now. And I repeat the scenario in my head, over and over and over. I can see us there, laughing, smiling with the smell of musky cigarettes surrounding us. I spent my last $3 on that pack, and they’re already almost gone. You’ve never been more beautiful.