It was unusually cold day in June.

The sky was grey and cloudy almost seemed like it’s going to rain in any moment.

Instead, white snowflakes starts to fall from the sky, landing softly onto our front yard.

It was that kind of day, whatever the forecasters talked about on the television, it doesn’t matter.

We would watch a television, laughing about how bad the forecasters are in predicting the weather, we would never get upset or angry, it would be just little laughs, giggles, all good times.

Good silly times.

I would try to cook and you would say something to mock me saying I’m so bad, but we would never cross the line, and I would know that.

I’m looking out the window from inside, gently lifting a recently brewed herb tea from a plate.

A warmth formed in my palm, I slowly take it in.

‘A warmth we shared’ I think to myself.

From a cup, to my hand, and to my body.

Cold air is still fighting against a sudden shift in temperature in our house.

Feeling like the house is unable to choose between staying cold or warm, so it decided to just stay still, before anything else goes wrong.

Just remain silent.

Silent like you, laid on the ground.

Maybe you’re thinking about the choices too, maybe you’re regretting it, thinking of ‘what ifs’.

But we both know, humans in nauture need to choose one way or another, even if you don’t like it.

So I made mine even before you did.

One bullet on your head.

Even unalive things are making choices so why did you try to run away from it.

Like your warm blood, decided to trail down your forehead to chin, to your body.

Creating a new community, meeting together again on the ground, turning into a pool.

I wonder what they’re talking about since they left your body.

Would they carry your soul too?

I can see them reaching for me, trying to explain your point, again.

A point you’ve made a million times, a story I’ve heard over and over again with no answers.

I don’t need an answer anymore.

You still didn’t give me one anyway.

So that night, I helped you, at least, your remainings to make the choice.

Like your heart and nerve system decided it’s finally time to get some rest.

Even then you’re still complaining it.

Your blank stares are telling me you haven’t changed a bit.

Just the same terror, same sadness.

I couldn’t even hear you scream.

A scream I longed for, a big surprise.

Even in the final moment, you didn’t choose to scream, you didn’t choose anything.

If you have made it that moment, if you didn’t hesitate from looking at my existence, standing in front of you, holding a gun, we could’ve gone back to those days when the snow was warm and soft, Christmas tree lights glistening near the fireplace, sharing cookies.

Just simple words from your mouth were all I wanted.

Yet, your lips are still sealed, now the maggots are going to eat you up carrying those words on their shoulders altogether.

But it’s okay.

I now know who you are, what kind of person you are.

Now I can have some rest too, drinking your favorite tea, in an unusually cold weather,

with warmth of your blood being my company.