"You don't talk about him, do you?"
My head spins and my heart screams your name as if you were the only "him" it knew.
"No, I don't." I say avoiding his eyes.
"You should, you know? Maybe you'd feel better."
I laugh. "Better." My eyes full of tears.
"Maybe I could help?" He says hopefully.
"I'm afraid if I talk about him, I'd go back to where I was that night. Sad. Broken. Alone. I'm afraid the darkness would drown me. I'm afraid, this time, I won't remember how to swim."