For a long time after Amelia Rivers passed away, I was in a daze.

Almost every night, I would dream of her.

Sometimes she was holding me, lulling me to sleep; other times, she was gently mending my clothes. But mostly, I'd dream of her crying, saying, "Charlie, I'm so cold, and I'm really tired."

I'd always wake up drenched in sweat at that moment, only to face a sleepless night.

I learned to smoke. Amelia Rivers used to say that if I ever smoked, she'd make me cry.

She was always boasting, even though she had never laid a finger on me.

How I wish that when I lit...