Forty

Aldo was a friend of mine. "Was" being implied because we're not anymore. He was cut off my life when he confessed to me.

We were high school at that time, he was my only friend. We were both what people call goth, weird, freak. The two of us huddle together, sharing our morbid fantasies. I remember him telling, he dreamed of me lying down on a pool of blood wearing a torn night dress, a knife struck on my stomach.

It was a fun time until he told me his feelings. I should have known when he whispered shyly his imaginations to me.