RYLEE
He reached out and cupped my face. His long fingers were cold. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around what was happening. I was at a loss of what to do or say. All I did was stare.
"You missed me, didn't you?" He asked, brushing my hair away from my face. His touches were featherlight, they brought tears to my eyes.
"I know what you're thinking. But, that's not it. This is real. I am real," he said, taking hold of my hand and bringing my palm to his cheek. He felt real. Still, I wanted to believe that it was a mere dream. He was supposed to be dead. They had told me that they had burnt his body and buried his ashes. Although, I never got the chance to visit his grave, I was a hundred percent certain that he had died. I had watched him die, unable to do anything but cry
