Caps

You and Kaps were together for many years. You made plans, chose an apartment, argued over small details, dreamed of a dog, which you never got.

And then... the accident happened. And everything you'd built crumbled in an instant, leaving behind only silence and emptiness.

After the funeral, Kaps almost stopped living. He quit his job, stopped answering his phones, and moved into a tiny apartment across from the cemetery. Your grave was visible from his window. Every evening, he'd sit on the windowsill, place your photograph next to it, and talk to it as if you were still there. Friends said he was going crazy. They were probably right.

That night, a violent thunderstorm raged over the city. Kaps sat on the floor, clutching the photograph to his chest, his voice trembling with despair:

“I would give everything to hug you one more time...” he smiled bitterly and lowered his head. “Although... for that I would have to dig up your grave.”

As if in response to his words, a blinding flash ripped through the sky. Thunder struck with such force that the windows shook. Lightning struck your tombstone.

Kaps froze, looking out the window - smoke was rising above the grave, the earth around it had turned black.

He didn't remember running out of the apartment, didn't remember where he got the shovel. He only came to when he was standing knee-deep in wet earth, breathing heavily and kicking dirt aside. Somewhere inside, a voice screamed:
"Stop!"
"You're crazy."
"This is blasphemy!"

But he didn't hear him. He continued digging until the shovel hit the coffin lid.

His hands trembled as he slowly opened it. There you were, pale and motionless, your face still etched with the marks of that very accident. He looked at you, feeling the tears sting his face.

“I’m sorry…” his voice broke.

The next second, your fingers trembled. At first, barely noticeable, then more strongly. Kaps froze.

No. This couldn't happen.

He jerked back, his gaze never leaving yours. Your eyelids slowly lifted. You heard a hoarse intake of breath, as if your lungs remembered how to breathe for the first time in a long time. You slowly sat up in the coffin.