3 A.M.
Written by M. Lent
The cold night air sent chills up his spine as he walked along Main Street. He knew it was useless. She had left three long years ago. He couldn’t bring himself to give up on his nightly walks.
“3 a.m.” she would say, “Best time for a walk, everyone else is sleeping. The night belongs to you!” Her eyes would light up, shaming the stars in the sky.
He smiled as he remembered the way she would say that. Such enthusiasm, almost like she knew a secret that nobody else knew. He felt the familiar pain in his heart, telling him it would never heal. He hated the pain but would endure it until the fateful day they were reunited.
He heard a rustling as he walked past the old cemetery. Three years ago, he had cried there, alone, for hours. Nobody had comforted him. Nobody had told him how to heal. He had never felt such loss before. He sat there until the grounds keeper began putting the last of the grass back into place. He couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He had walked away, forever lost without her.
Three years of pain, three years of sorrow. How could he go on any longer? He knew he had to. For her. He couldn’t let his own pain drown him.
He froze as he heard it, how could it be? He took a couple more steps, it’s impossible he told himself. He felt the tiny hands around his eyes in the same way he had been imagining for three years.
Spinning to face the footsteps, he nearly passed out. It’s her! It’s really her! But, how?
Finding his voice again, he stammered, “How is it possible? Is this a trick?”
She watched his expression fade from fear to confusion.
“I am here, it’s really me.”
“But how?” he asked again.
“I finally died too,” She smiled.
For my friend, Roger Snow
