“Whatever you are, be a good one.”
The words stare at us, accusatory, gray in gray with the sky and the cold, right there in front of us. We are crushing wet, brown leaves beneath the soles of our worn shoes without a sound.
At least it’s raining.
That is the one thing I can think about, how I’m glad that it’s raining, because it seems respectful and fitting and just uncomfortable enough to give us a glimpse of what our thoughts feel like, when we feel too numb to remember.
We stand still, in the wind and the rain, and I watch how her sister buries her head between the soaked sleeves of her jacket like a scared child. I can watch them all like I’m not a part of it, like I don’t belong, and it’s so easy that it scares me.
“We should have been better.” Lea’s hand is shaking when she takes mine and squeezes, squeezes so hard that it hurts, but that’s good, because it’s something.
It’s something else than t