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Prologue

The End, it begins

In my dreams I go everywhere.

I am limited only by my imagination, but as my year-seven English teacher once remarked, I was blessed with a rather robust one of those. Original and dramatic, she said; proudly, as if it were all down to her guidance and tutoring rather than the genetic card I was dealt. I wonder what she would say if she could see me now.

Such a shame, such a waste.

She wouldn’t be wrong.

In my dreams, I travel to places I have never been but always wanted to go. On the one hand, it is preferable. There are no customs queues, pickpockets to keep a wary eye out for, or tetanus shots to be had. Yet, on the other hand, none of it is real. I will never see these places for myself.

Days have begun to merge. The passage of time is marked by the administration of pain medication. I don’t remember the last time I left this bed, or this room. I am near the window and am grateful for that. I watch clouds roll on by, and then…

Blink.

… they are replaced by stars.

I hear them. The voices. Muffled, tearful, weary. I hate what I have put them through. Continue to do. Is it my fault? That I am still here? Am I hanging on when I should be letting go? Have I failed at the very thing that comes to us all?

Blink.

I dream of him. With the water on his skin and the sunset in his eyes. The timing was all wrong. And yet, the timing was perfect. I wonder where he is, and what he is doing.

Blink.

I tiptoe among the stars, along the Milky Way. Hitch a ride on a comet, dance with the man in the moon.

I am star dust; blow on me too hard and I will disintegrate.

Chapter One

I stopped listening a few minutes ago, right around the time he uttered the three words I had been most longing not to hear.

I’m so sorry.

I watch as his mouth moves and a few other words filter through, even though I feel like I am underwater or listening to him from inside a vacuum.

Secondary

Bone

Incurable

Limited options

On their own, none of those words are particularly malevolent, but together they paint a grim picture. The cancer is back. And this time it’s not going away. Numbness steals over me like an anesthetic and I feel my whole body settle in cold stillness. This can’t be happening.

I should be listening. As far as speeches go, the one he’s currently giving is right up there in terms of importance. I know I’ll be fielding a million questions later, none of which I will have the answer for if I don’t listen. Except one, if anyone is brave enough to ask it.