She was beautiful and benevolent. The light in her was so pervasive, spreading from her eyes, to her heart, and filling her body with such radiance. Everyone around her felt it and that is why I loved her. I never understood why she abased herself even when everyone around her lauded her for her propriety.
Before I knew it, tears began to run down my cheeks. One minute I had her and the next minute she was gone. Compelling the memories back, I begin to remember the night she was taken from me. Over and over they flashed like a never-ending slideshow.
Exactly one year and two days ago from today, she was walking home with me from school. I remember her being so jubilant about her upcoming birthday. That’s when I realized I had forgotten my history book back at school. The clouds above us were growing dark and malicious, but I exigently had to get that book or I would hear it from my pedagogue the following day. It began to sprinkle as I told her to wait at the fire hydrant on the corner of the street so I could run back to school.
Slamming my locker shut, I suddenly had a weird, almost daft feeling like something bad was going to happen. I could not understand it as I walked back to her through the cold rain. When I turned the corner, I looked up and there she lay. Her enervated body was thrown on the wet ground next to a car, smashed into the fire hydrant.
I remember stopping for a terse moment to redact the scene as if she was standing there smiling back at me. Then I sprinted off, screaming her name, not feeling anything, hearing anything, or seeing anything like my whole world around me went into a blackout. When I reached her I bent down, holding her in my arms and cursing the heavens with such retribution and indignation.
The tears were still pouring from my eyes as I shook the memory that now scourged me. Placing the flowers down I whispered, “Happy birthday”, before turning away. I thought I heard her little giggle as I walked away from the...