A Tearful Dozen
By Kieran Frank
Viktor Dahlen: my boyfriend who rested underneath the earth. A dozen white roses adorned the small gravestone with his name and life date engraved on it, which was the first time I had decided to give him some flowers.
The cemetery was the last place I would have thought I’d be spending more time. Now here I was with a hole in my heart that couldn’t be sealed, my chest tightening every so often. It felt as if I were drowning in a vast lake after a walk along an imaginary broken dock, much like all my bouts of depression. My twenty-second birthday was today, but Viktor’s death continued anchoring my mood to the depth of my inner lake, numbing any care about anything else in life.
As a new indie author of nonfiction, I could write a big book about everythi
