Her

This maintains, in my mind, the greatest piece I have ever written.

I walked into the building with half-closed eyes, the colours of the walls, ceiling, furniture, and people were all dull. Greys and whites, nothing vivid enough to attract my attention. Except her; she stood there in the middle of the lobby with that smile she has, not quite a full smile but not a straight face. Everything about her was outstanding. Her outfit, a vibrant combination of all colours known to man; accompanied by a bright purple ribbon around her right wrist. Her face was glowing with colour and passion.

Her eyes were as blue and deep to lengths that oceans would envy. Her bags were a faded red, proof of her experience with the world. I picked up my suitcase and proceeded towards her with as best a jog I could muster up. Her innocent smile had morphed into a grin that would’ve been marvelled at by the happiest of people. I hug her. She’s warm and hugs back, no reluctance can be noticed. As she hugs me, her purple ribbon falls to the cold stone floor. I bend down and gather it for her, caressing her as I return it to its rightful owner.  I thought I heard her mutter some words of gratitude but I chose to disregard them. I swiftly collected her hand in mine and near dragged her to the taxi. We jumped into the tired yellow car, I told the driver to take us to an old favourite spot of ours. I swear I didn’t stop talking throughout the whole car ride.

We arrived, I paid the young man that was driving and ran off, I gave him too much money but that didn’t matter at all, all I wanted was to be with her. I was running towards the tree, even while I was carrying our entire luggage, she couldn’t keep up. She was never a very fast girl, not even as a teenager, but I was always fair to her. I used to let her win whenever we would ride our bikes to the tree, the smiles she had worn when she won was worth the pride I would lose. It didn’t matter with her, I didn’t care if I was stupid, slow, silly or anything like that, and I didn’t care because she didn’t care. She finally reached the tree where I was waiting for her; I laid down some of my clothes from my luggage onto the grass beneath the tree so that we could sit down pleasantly.  She sat beside me and I watched her intently, waiting for her to say something. Before she could open her mouth, I spoke. She used to hate that, but she always listened. She never truly cared. She told me she hated it but she actually loved hearing the silly facts and stupid things I had to say about my friends or my workmates. Whenever I was with her I wouldn’t shut up. This hadn’t changed. I could swear I repeated how beautiful she was about twenty times at the least and how she hadn’t changed.

We sat under that tree for almost four hours, although this was nothing compared to how long we used to sit under the tree back when we were teenagers. We would sit there for entire days. We once sat there overnight, our parents were so angry but when they saw how happy we were, they dismissed any thought of punishment. Soon after we began walking to her apartment from the tree, it went silent between us, not even just between us, all the birds, the wind, the crickets, everything was silent. I stopped walking, she continued. I tried calling out to her to wait for me, but nothing would come out of my mouth. I was incapable of screaming or moving. Everything suddenly got brighter in front of her; she just kept walking, seemingly into infinite space.  She walked into the bright light and that was it. I stood there on the dull road, crying, attempting to scream but to no avail. I tried to move, but the only thing that would move is the tears rolling down my cheeks full of love, passion, grief and pain.

Then I woke up. I was lying on green grass, clearly well taken care of, underneath a large tree that was supplying my protection from the sun. I roll over and see the large, overembellished, weatherworn stone tablet that was partially submerged in the gorgeous green grass. Upon it, engraved in exquisite print;
*Here Lies Lt. Rebecca J. Connor. Beloved by all. Served as Lieutenant in US Marine Corps. Beautiful, passionate and caring.*
I lay down the flowers I bring every time I visit, a bouquet of pink lilies, her favourite. And I straighten up the small purple ribbon that she wore on her right wrist, now faded and worn, but still hers. I turn to slowly walk away, tears rushing down my face, as always. I get into my car and I drive to that tree that we always visited. I open the trunk and reach in, grab the length of thick braiding and lock the car. I sit the keys on the bonnet and walk towards the tree. I tie it and lasso it over the strongest branch. I then make sure it’s tight, hook it around my neck and I let go. I not only let go of the rope, but I let go of the pain. I let go of the suffering. I let go of the memories and I let go of the constant reminders of her.

I see a bright light. There she is, beautiful, as always, walking towards me from the light. There it was. That feeling. Happiness. I collect her hand as I walk towards her and we walk into the light together.
“I love you.” We whisper together.