October; the month of love and grief

I often imagine myself in this place that keeps me alive, I have never visited it, though it occupies my mind. My will to live has been dependent on this place now that you can say, for a long time.

The surrounding trees have brown-reddish leaves, there are a lot of coffee shops made of uncoloured aesthetic bricks. I walk with coffee in my hand while the other one is occupied with a book, can't even see the cover but can clearly read the words. I feel startled as I walk, seeing no one but him, his face is blurred and all I can see is his clothes and one shiny ring. 

The next thing I can see is me sitting very close to him, his hands in mine, as I grin. However, at one point it all becomes burdening as I move, slight gesture and I feel a wound. It was all blood dripping through our hands as they were still intertwined as before, and all of a sudden, his body was a corpse.