We went as far as the car would take us. Neither one of us spoke as it slowed, gravel crunching under the tires. The headlights illuminated a desolate stretch of road. Most of the trees had lost their leaves, bare branches reaching out like Hollywood monsters. The engine ticked as it cooled. An undercurrent of fear whispered through the car. The night was eerily quiet, no crickets, no forlorn cries of owls, not even the rustling of leaves though the branches danced hypnotically.

A shiver worked its way through my body--somebody walking on your grave, my momma used to say--and I reached out for his hand still resting on the gear shift. His skin felt cool against the heat of my palm, a touch of the chill embracing the October night. My gaze remained steady out the front window as he turned his hands and our fingers entwined.

The radio began to crackle, static warping the voices until the sounded like something from beyond the grave. The headlights flickered, candlelight caught in the wind. A bitter taste formed in my mouth, a sob lodged in my throat with the threat of choking me. Tears ghosted down my cheeks. A crack began to slowly creep its way across the windshield, reality seeping back in. Pain blossomed in my chest followed by an all too familiar pain.

My fingers came away slick with the crimson stain of blood.

Every night of the 25th it played out the same way, the red lights of the dashboard clock burning much brighter than they had any right to; five minutes to midnight. Always those last five minutes. Every one more precious than the last for in those moments I still had him and we were still together. My hold on his hand tightened in an effort to make him stay. I was never ready for him to drift away.

Each beat of my heart left me feeling a little colder, a little more disconnected from the real world. We never should have gone to the party, but how were we to know we'd never make it home again? How was I to know that the last time his lips would touch my skin they would be so very cold, just like they were now, just like they were every October 25th?

The crack across the windshield turned glass into fragile ice, tiny shards slowly starting to fall into the dashboard like jagged snowflakes. The forest began to whisper as the wind through the branches, and the car began to fade. As the last minutes ticked away I turned to look at him, always the same, this eternal goodbye. Beyond him, through him, through the door of the car I could see the roadside memorial forever marking where we ended. The place where the car gave out on us.

But it didn't matter because as always I was looking at him, gazing into a set of eyes already growing dim. As he began to fade, as I felt my heart stop, my body drifting, I saw his lips move. The sound of his voice had long since slipped my mind, but every year I clung to those last breathless words.

I love you...