Building a stable and safe psyche was like building a house.

From infantry and all through your childhood, your parents helped you build a good foundation. The best ones made it solid, but if you were unlucky, they would build it unevenly and set you up for a poor start to life. Some kids were strong enough to realize that and strong enough to find a way to stabilize their own foundation without them.

But then came the actual construction; Building it up to a safe and solid sanctuary.

Throughout life, you picked up heavy bricks that helped you sculpt your little mental home. Some were bad bricks, some were sturdy. You learned how to stack them through trial and error, learned how to stabilize crumbling walls – learned that sometimes, you had to knock one down and start over.

But throughout life, if you were lucky, you also found people willing to help you build. They lifted bricks with you, lent you a hand and supported you in your project. Some were old in the construction business and had built many houses themselves. They were good builders, happy helpers, blessings along the way.

But then, there were the snakes.

Some people were bad builders, but you didn't know until it was too late. Until they had helped you build an entire wall together and only too late did you realize it was unstable and would crumble. The people would ignore it and keep on building on your now unsturdy house, and it was up to you to find the strength to take them off your personal project.

Fire them.

But what if you didn't?

What if, through most of your life, when you had just gotten a hang of building and had found what you thought were a stable building partner, you had kept building with this person so far into your project, you finally dared to start building the roof? The thing that was going to be your safety; Your cover from the harsh pouring rains, the roof that would protect you from thunder and lightening and icy cold times.

I had trusted Mason with my roof. I had given him all my materials, all my assets, love and trust, and entrusted him to keep all of it safe by helping him build my roof.

But now, everything had crashed down on top of me, taking all my walls with it, and buried me in the rubble of what used to be my life.

Everything... was ashes.

For six months, I had been laying there. For six months, I had been watching the ashes fall, too tired to get up. People tried to dig me free, had tried help me up, but in the end I had to stand up by myself.

I had to choose to get up and start rebuilding.

But how did you start rebuilding when you couldn't even find the strength to carry on?

What happened with Mason was only a small part of it. He had been a bad roof over a poorly constructed house, and everything that had fallen down together had been an homage to all the bad choices I had made in my life. All the bad people I had let dictate it and let control how my safe space should be built.

"Who do you have in your life that you love?"

I looked at my therapist, Dr Samson, who watched me with her nurturing green eyes, waiting for my reply. Who did I have in my life that I loved?

I had my family... my parents and my two siblings. My big brother and my baby sister. They were all good people, broadly speaking, but did I love them? Would I come to them in my hour of need?

There were my colleagues. My 'friends' by work-category at the Aristocat Lounge who I bantered with in the five minute breaks of the long club hours. But did I love them?

And then there was Tony. But he was too complicated for love...

In truth, there was only one person whom I could say I truly loved, and it was the same person who had made this appointment for me. The person who had stood by me and accepted all my madness, who had been holding out his hand towards me for six months while I laid in my rubbles and watched the ashes fall.

Yesterday, I had finally taken his hand. It hurt moving, but it was a pain I had to go through to get better.

"It's been a long time since we talked," Dr Samson voiced when I didn't reply. I sat silently on her couch, still too numb to speak, even though it had been says since Dan found me on our living room floor. "Do you want to tell me what's happened since we last spoke? I think it was August, wasn't it? Do you want to tell me what's been happening in your life?"

Where did one start? The aftereffect of the breakup with Mason? The downsizing from my job at the senior center? The long months of being numb, letting the wind push me along, pretending everything was okay, because hoping that pretending everything was okay would eventually make it so?

And then there was Tony again...

"Why don't we start out with something easier," Her voice softened for some reason, and that's when I realized tears were streaming down my cheeks, quietly. I couldn't even keep it together anymore. They came without cause. "Tell me what your favorite song is these days."

Easy. I closed my eyes and knew very well what my favorite song was these days. The problem was, it didn't have a name.

Or maybe... it did.

"Blue. My favorite song... is Blue."

~~~

It had been two weeks of therapy, two times a week. Dan and my therapist had both agreed there was too much to talk about for just once every week, or month for that matter. Dr Samson took me on as an urgent patient and I let her.

Because even as far out as I was, I knew I needed help. That was the thing; The further you walked, the farther back you could see. What you saw, however, wasn't always what you wanted to see.

Remarkably though, I felt myself slowly coming back. Dan had thrown down my anchor and was guiding me back to shore. I cried almost every time he spoke to me.

People like Dan were sparse and limited these days. He was one of a kind, smiling when I couldn't, helping me when I had forgotten how things worked. He was so generous, so selfless and so damn caring.

And maybe that's why Kyle had held on to him and asked him to move in with him.

"I know it's terrible timing," Dan told as we sat that afternoon not long before evening, the winter darkness already falling over the city. "And I know it's fast. That's why I didn't say anything. I'm not moving out or leaving you until I known you're back on your feet, I promise you. But... I am going to say yes," He said, a sweet warmth rising to his cheeks as he looked down into his cup of mint tea, no doubt thinking of Kyle.

I reached over and palmed his hand. "I'm happy for you. For both of you." Kyle truly was a sweet guy. He had come by a few times during the past few weeks to watch movies with us, old Christmas classics.

Somehow, Christmas had rolled around and were mere days away. I couldn't even remember the months switching.

"Are you going to be okay with this? I know that—"

"I'll be okay," I said, tears welling up in my eyes again. It was only and solely thanks to him. I quickly blinked the tears away when I saw Dan's well up emotionally as well, and offered him a smile instead. "I think the two of you are perfect together. Actually, I think seeing the two of you together might just do the trick. Don't let me hold you back. Promise me that instead."

Dan's face melted, and he set his cup down to maneuver himself towards me on the couch. Wrapping his arms around me, he pressed his lips to my hair and took a deep breath. "Fuck, I love him, Mel. I'm so goddamn scared, it's that much. What the hell happened?"

For the first time in... ages, a small laugh bubbled past my lips. "The dick must be bomb."

Dan's chest vibrated with a sudden burst of laughter. I pressed my hand to his heart and absorbed the vibrations, closing my eyes and relishing in the sound of my best friend laughing again.

That's when I realized, I hadn't heard him laugh in a long time either.

"I love you too, Mel," He then said, giving me a squeeze. "We're gonna be okay. We're both royally screwed, but we're gonna be okay."

And wasn't that the truth until the world ended.

~~~

Dan had left for work. Against all odds he had talked Carlos into giving me time off, although unpaid. One whole month till Christmas was over, starting fresh January 2nd.

After that, my job was unsafe. He had a business to run, after all.

The truth was, I almost didn't care if I lost my job. I loved working at the lounge, but it had been a sugar pill to my current state. A placebo to hide the real sad truth inside me.

Sitting in my dim apartment, I looked out over the dark city and watched the sparkling Christmas lights people were hanging in their windows and off their balconies. Christmas trees lit up their homes and Christmas music had started playing in the bars and malls. Dan told me he had already sat on Santa's lap this year.

But one thing the city hadn't been lighting up with was sirens outside my block.

For two weeks, despite finally getting all the emotional things off my chest, I hadn't been able to sleep much. The nights Dan was at work or slept at Kyle's place (though for the most parts, both of them had crashed here – for my benefit, not doubt), I had been up, pacing the floors or lying restlessly in my bed, listening for signs of Russian mobsters trying to break down my door.

They had come for him once... and they would come for him again.

I trembled and shook at the thought of where he was. I hadn't allowed myself to think the unthinkable – that they had already found him, and had made sure to come in a number too great even for his strength.

In fact, I turned the TV on every night to catch the rebroadcast after Dan had left for work or gone to sleep, and had looked for any news of a homeless guy found dead in the street; Police ready to release a picture to identify John Doe.

But just like with the Russian mobsters, the news hadn't covered any gruesome deaths. And a part of me knew it wasn't to keep the Christmas mood in Manhattan alive.

In the long hours of the night, I had gone over that day countless of times. Every detail that my mind would give me had been tossed and turned like a rubrics cube, but I found no new clues.

Either the police was covering it up purposely or someone had cleared out the bodies before it hit the news. Perhaps whoever had been after Tony had hidden their loss from their competition faster than the media and police could arrive at the scene. Although how was the question that remained...

With so many questions and nobody to talk to about it, I had developed anxious insomnia.

I knew better than to talk to my therapist. Confidentiality only went so far. Dr Samson was required by law to report a crime, even if she was sworn by oath. She would be considered an accomplice if I brought her in on it and she didn't report it to the authorities. Murder had happened and I knew the murderer.

– And he knew me. Inside and out.

I pulled the blanket tighter around myself as I sat on the couch and continued looking out over the dark city. The Christmas lights really were pretty... families were cozying up with seasonal candy and baked goods. Even Dan had decorated the apartment a bit... baked some Jewish cookies with a decorative Star of David on for Kyle.

It was such a merry season... so how come I only heard sad violins playing?

Big brainer, that one.

My eyes drifted shut, but not seconds later they opened again. A sound pulled me free, a sound I recognized too well. I unfurled from the couch, wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and stood up.

Walked.

He stood on the threshold of my apartment as I swung the door open, a gush of cold wind sweeping in from the hall. Or not the hall.

He was stained by snow, his manbun falling to pieces around his ears, but my heart fell harder as our eyes collided.

The dead had risen.

• • •

There can be miracles.