Che was odd. He was a man. Your average man in 1940s Argentina...But also he wasn't? He was more of an idea...or a concept. Hope and guidance and patriotism personified into a man and sent to watch over one of the country's biggest leaders? He didn't really know. He just knew he was here and he was meant to guide you to be the best First Lady of Argentina you could be!

You sort of knew he was special too. No normal guy despite his name being Che...He was always just there in he back of your mind looking after you. He lived in your home town, then would be a bartender at a tavern you were in, then a someone you were addressing with one of your speeches,a rioter in the streets, a waiter, someone who worked in your building, your neighbor...He was just...everyone.

And his presence comforted you. Soothed you. You two never needed to interact directly. He occasionally gave you a little nudge in the right way but he was very subtle...You formed a perfect relationship with the guardian angel narrator of your story.

But when you got sick...when you started passing out during the rainbow tour...Feeling faint. When you had your fevers and got bedridden...you two finally started talking.

In reality you were in your bed. Feverish and sick in the dead of night...dreamily vividly of an empty ballroom, the setting sun making the room a dusty amber color, an old radio playing a little tango song...and the ever elusive Che waiting for a dance with you..