Memento mori - Remember about death

Remember about death

Every day, everything dies a little bit more. Every day, we get closer to that mystical boundary. Why is it so difficult to come to terms with the idea of death?

"I've been wondering about that for ages," said a gravelly male voice, causing the woman standing in front of a large maple tree to startle. Instinctively, she looked around, but when she saw no one but the intruder, she breathed a sigh of relief. Just minutes before, she had asked Olivier to leave her alone for a moment.
"So, I'm not the only one," she muttered, more to herself than to the man.
"About contemplating death, or about being under this tree?" he asked, though it seemed like he already knew the answer.
She wasn't in the mood for small talk, even if it involved existential dilemmas. She hadn't distanced herself from the one person closest to her just to entertain some stranger. She assumed the intruder had paused only because he'd overheard her monologue, which she should have kept in her head, and that he'd leave soon. But that didn't happen.
There was an unwavering confidence in his posture, and a strange power emanated from him. It was these qualities that made the woman stop ignoring his presence and shift her gaze from the red leaves to the man.
Oh hell... she cursed inwardly. Other curses dissolved in the face of the stranger's beauty. She had never met anyone quite like him...

"Did I ask too difficult a question?" he spoke again, his voice still rough, a smile playing on his lips, half amusement, half sharp wit.

She cleared her throat, sliding her hands into the pockets of her autumn coat.
"Who said I was planning on answering?" she replied defensively.

A brief silence fell between them, during which they exchanged looks. She tried to find something in his jet-black pupils, while he effortlessly read her emerald eyes. The earlier feeling of attraction grew stronger, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. She winced but found she couldn't tear her gaze away from him. He hadn't moved a step closer, but she could have sworn his hands were probing her entire body, teasing every nerve as if searching for something. Alternating between warmth and cold, pleasure and pain, confusion and understanding — though the latter always eluded her. Normally, a paralyzing fear or frustration over her lack of control would have overwhelmed her, but instead, an insatiable desire began to speak louder inside her. It was as if she had tasted something forbidden, yet longed for.

"Seraphina!"

The sound of her boyfriend's voice snapped her out of her reverie, and she immediately increased the distance between herself and the stranger. Her face was marked with a thousand questions, a mix of confusion and fascination. This wasn't normal! She should be scared, running away as fast as she could, not standing there, eyes roaming his figure.

"I'm coming!" she shouted, wrapping her red coat tighter around herself, as if the fabric could keep the man from coming any closer.

He didn't break eye contact, but his gaze had lost that strange magnetism. He looked as though he had just made some surprising discovery, a small smile on his lips and glimmers shining in the darkness of his eyes. Before she could turn to head downhill, he gave her a cryptic smile.

"See you soon, Seraphina," he murmured ominously.

She wasn't sure if those words were the product of her overactive imagination or if the stranger really believed their paths would cross again. She didn't want to find out, and Olivier's next call forced her to start running. The hem of her coat fluttered behind her as she hurried, revealing a knee-length black velvet dress in gothic style. She didn't dress like this every day, but today was an exception. Margaret would forever leave her mark on her heart and soul. As soon as she allowed those unwanted thoughts to surface, tears gathered in her eyes, tracing two paths down her pale cheeks.