red

For the past week, she's dreamed in red.
Little splotches of the color that grow more vibrant as days pass.
In these dreams, she sees herself. She sees locations and surroundings that she recognizes, if only vaguely.
In these dreams, she also sees him.
She relives memories shared with him, the images gray and dull except for the faint little color of red.
She relives the lonely nights spent on her couch in front of the television, which would've been lonely had he not been there, and her nails are painted crimson.
She relives those days spent on the road, he's in the driver's seat, flicking through songs on the radio, and she's wearing her favorite red lipstick.
She relives her last moments spent with him, his breathing is labored and he's looking up at her, and there's red pooling around his head.  
These dreams, they all affect her the same way, jarring her awake and leaving her breathless.
But, it's all she can hope, is to fall back asleep and relive these dreams, to relive these moments with him, as she calms herself down and tries not to think of the empty space beside her in her bed.