Dream On

by Jennifer Hartmann

“Eventually, you’ll realize there are no good days. There are just days, nights, and all the monotonous bullshit in between.”

But deep down, I know we’re not the same. I’m afraid I won’t wake up. Lex is afraid he will.

all money has ever done is suck the humanity out of people who were once decent. It’s life’s most time-hallowed poison, always there, always seeping inside us and altering our priorities until everything’s about accumulating more, more, more, then protecting what’s already been gained. It twists genuine intentions into transactions and makes every gesture feel hollow.

He smiles—a flash of teeth, so organic and real. I hardly ever see him smile like this unless the cameras are on him or people are watching. I want to keep it close, carry it with me for all my days. It’s just for me.

But then she smiles. Stevie sticks her head out through the big wooden door with a glowing grin. And the burden lifts. Another feeling takes over, the one that’s been poking through my dark hollows, sprinkling seeds in those empty holes. She’s the water. The sunlight. New growth.

And I realize it’s those fleeting snippets of joy, the underwhelming moments, that stitch our days together and carry the biggest weight.

Death isn’t always tangible. Sometimes it’s a feeling, and sometimes it’s the absence of feeling. Sometimes it’s a weight added, and sometimes it’s a weight lifted. Mourning isn’t always funerals and headstones; sometimes it’s the silent realization that some things are better left to rest.

“But I have two hands that will hold you forever, a voice that will sing to you until we take our last breaths, and eyes that will see you for all that you are, every day, every minute, just as you’ve seen me.”

And then I thank the sky for giving me the best star of all.

“Oh!” She points to the right at the colorful signage. “Bookstore?” “Do you need more books?” “I don’t understand the question.”