When I opened my eyes, Tyrone was holding my hand tightly. He looked like he hadn't slept well, with heavy bags under his eyes.
The sky outside was very dark, and it seemed that the sun had not yet risen.
I tried to say something, but before I could get the words out, tears started streaming down my face.
"I miss Lily," I said.
Tyrone hugged me and apologized softly.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry for making you lose her."
He still believed it was his fault that Lily died. That's not what I wanted; I never meant to make him feel guilty.
I shook my head, and the tears continued to flow like they did in my dreams.
In my sadness, I suddenly felt the urge to share something: if someone dies and everything about her is forgotten, then her existence is truly erased.
Death is not the e
