Just as I was finally getting used to the days without you. On a summer day so brilliantly clear it made me want to curse, exactly five years since the day you left. I headed to the cemetery where you sleep. I offered lilies—the flowers you said you liked, though I never cared for them much because of the pollen—and gave you a brief update on my life. But since I remember you at every turn and end up talking to you in my head anyway, there wasn't really anything formal left to say, was there? On the way back. Swaying in a sparsely populated train, I was thinking about maybe making those hamburger steaks you loved for dinner today. Ground meat, onions, then eggs, and the seasoning. I'll need a side dish, too. Maybe a salad. I think the crisper drawer is empty, so I'll have to go buy some vegetables. I was just spacing out in the quiet car, watching the scenery outside the window rush past.

――.

The train jolted violently. The first thing I felt was a massive impact. Then, pain. I felt like I hit every part of my body. By the time I realized what state I was in, it was already too late. I was pinned under something, and every inch of me hurt beyond belief. A faint smell of smoke. Oh, it's burning, I thought, with strange detachment. Gradually, the pain began to fade, and my thoughts turned soft and blurry. I couldn't help but be conscious of my end. Even at a time like this. No, because it's a time like this, I remember you. —This is the story of a happy dream, seen in the brief moments before my life reaches its end.