Sunshine flooded in the room. I hate sunshine. It’s worse than darkness, burning your retinas, and imprinting sillouhettes in your vision. Ben liked it though. He told me once that he saw every sunrise. He wanted to see a newborn sun before he died, even if he never saw anthing else again. He never saw the sun that day. He didn’t see much of anything then. I did, though. I saw blood and shards of the glass that no longer sheltered us from the crisp, pre-dawn breeze. I saw Ben’s face, ghoslty pale, the white of his skin making his vividly blue eyes shine even brighter than usual. They searched my face before they closed forever. They looked for some kind of answer, some explanation for his premature fate. He glanced me over with that x-ray vision of his, for what seemed like forever. He made me wish it was me who was dying, whose breath was limited, and heartbeats numbered. The thing is, I was. I died, and I was gone from the world, but I wanted to come back. So I did. Without Ben.