Boston

' It all started with the meadow, and that's when she decided to go to Boston. '

Boston

The softness of the grass under my back was warm, calming. Maybe the grass was not as soft as the clean shaven head that lay next to mine, but at least touching this didn't bring tears to the back of my eyelids and raise barely concealed panic to the surface. His soft breathing lulled me to a false sense of security, my eyelids drooped, shielding themselves from the light of the sun. My wrists tickled from the feel of the yellow flowers that dotted the meadow, and no they aren't dandelions if you were asking. Daffodils or Rues maybe? Didn't really matter, I have no knowledge of flowers. I was too sleepy to care anyways.

The timid touch to my cinnamon, sun-burnt coloured hair sent a shock throughout me. I jerked awake and threw myself forwards, sudden vertigo almost nauseating. Boyish chuckling carried over the breeze and I glared weakly at vivid blue eyes, the world morphing from shadows eating away at my vision. Smiling smugly at my reaction, I almost missed his words. "Promise me…" he yawned, the frozen lakes of his eyes drawing closed, fighting to stay open. "You'll…always do whatever it is you want to do in life... Whatever it may be." he finished in a weird nasal-y kind of voice, finally drifting off to sleep.

The shadows of the meadow that had been at my knees before suddenly swept over us and I smiled dumbly with a snort at his words. I squeezed his palm and felt that something was off. I squeezed again, no reaction. My throat went as dry as sawdust as I shook him. Fear gripped me. He was joking; he was playing a practical joke on me…

But he wasn't.

The shadow passed, and he was still cold all over. He was dead.