If I knew the answer to this question I would scream it into all the classrooms on my campus. I would print it onto flyers and hand it to every single person I came across on the street. I would tattoo it to my forehead so no one would have to be haunted by the things that haunt me.

All I know is that at random moments (eating dinner, in the middle of class, walking my dog) I still see him. He sits right in front of me, across the table, just like he did that night. He’s laughing and smiling, his eyes shining from the stories I told him of my childhood. He’s throwing napkins at my head and stealing sips of my mountain dew. Then suddenly, he's walking me to my door. One. Two. Three. Four steps till were standing right in front of it. I ring the doorbell. He hugs me. I can still see his face. His cheeks are flushed and he isn't making eye contact. His smile is crooked and soft. The door opens and he begins to walk away, looking over his shoulder as he does. He’s so real, I could reach for his hand and pull him back to me. I could hug him for just one more minute. One minute. That's all I'm asking for. Please. Please. Please.

But if I reach for his hand, or let my mind wander to the rest of that day and how it went south so, so fast, he disappears and my heart is shattered into a million pieces all over again.

He may be gone, but the memories will remain forever. I see him when I close my eyes or when I'm daydreaming during class, but, that is the only place he is now. He isn't walking me to class. He isn't hugging me when I win stupid games at an arcade. And he especially isn't whispering into my ear “I love you.” Because when I open my eyes, and come back to the real world, all I am left with is a sense of inexplicable emptiness and a memory of what once was.