“I love it.” I whisper, holding the flowers in my hands. An arrangement of red, pink, and white roses. “Let’s get on.” Iris says, romantically.

We arrive at the restaurant, holding hands. “Reservation for Iris Donalaway.” The server leads us outside, holding two menus.

“This is like a dream.” I say, reading the menu. I glance up to see Iris smiling. “Maybe this is.” Her faces drops into this dead stare. No smiling, no life in her eyes, nothing. I look around to see everything turning dark, and everyone in the restaurant giving me the cold dead glare.