Life is never easy for those who dream.

He sat in the stool, talking. I saw the gun, shining, black. It fired, slow motion. I couldn't stop it. The bullet struck his leg, and I watched his face change. He looked betrayed and confused.

He slipped down the stool, and I caught him, straining against his weight. His leg wouldn't stop bleeding.

His femoral. Did the bullet hit his femoral?

I pressed my palm on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it wouldn't stop.

Won't anybody help him? Won't anybody help me?

Unfazed, nobody looked up. He's going to die! I felt myself tearing up, and my hands turned red. His face contorted. I felt badly that I didn't have some sort of towel under my hands, I was scared I was hurting him.

My palms were so red. I cried for him.

"You can't love, they said. But I love you. I love you."

He smiled. "I don't love you here," he pointed to his brain. "I love you here." His hand went over his heart. "I love you."

I put the silver bullet in my wallet, even though I should have thrown it away.

"I love you, too. I love you, too."

Running on that same road. With L and M. Turn the corner, they are gone. N's there, she asked, "Are you ready for your Geography Bee?" I don't know. Suddenly, we are walking in the corridor behind the High School Auditorium. There is a full crowd, and a man in a black tuxedo is giving out riddles.

In his arms was a limp woman in a red dress, bright against suit. "What am I holding?" he asked.

"A corpse?" I answered.

The woman in his arms changed to two struggling women clawing at his face. "It's related to cats," he said.

I didn't know the answer.