I see a giant twice my height. People walk through him, around me, and out from under our bridge. The late winter sun is up, and the breeze has a hint of engine oil that makes me think of warm lilacs.

There are some things about a friend you will never forget. For Goose, it's the fact that he's my height when he gets on his knees. It's also the crushing hugs I never get tired of -- like the one he's giving me now. I think something just popped out of place, but that's just fine and dandy. I'd laugh, but my lungs are a bit short on air at the moment. Hah-- ha... ow.

The sun out there is turning a golden orange, and pink petals are floating in from the quad. I blink, and it's all gone.

The sky looks bleak again, but that's okay. A giant walks in my head.

A toaster glued to your eyebrows
Muscle relaxant in your hands
Jello in your spine juice
Frozen napalm in your stomach
A skipping hard drive in your brain
A chatty voice in your head talking about Super Sayan powers
And murder
Love notes with no words
A sudden hankering for cloning yourself
Fleeting images of mental alchemy
Or becoming Dr. Xavier or Jean Gray
Time to keel over now.

The sun seemed to make the room dimmer this morning.  Thinking of his smile, I watched him fade.  My body lay like stone, my mind numb, and I realized that those giant fingers would never play with mine again.  My sheets turned to ice, and I hugged my knees, shut my eyes.