I close my eyes and see a pale shadow in the middle of the darkness. The shadow slowly morphs into a carnation, a dirty and dim version as if half its pixels have been extracted. It changes again. Soon it is the head of a person, as if they were a cadaver upon a steel tray, ready for the mortician to close up. Then it goes away, completing that dark space to nothing at all. I ask myself where the warmth is, the future I should move into, and I feel the hands of my lover upon my shoulders, warm and soft. He is separate from my past, external to the pain and harm, existing in a good space I need to turn into. I'm moving on. Finally.