Three Simple Words

They speak of living and dying, dreaming and surviving like it's easy.

As though no challenges face them. As though problems aren't anything to fear. As though Stella chose to die that night, and that however sad it might have been, life had to go on. Time kept ticking by, a second at a time, sixty seconds to fill a minute. Then sixty minutes to fill an hour. Twenty-four hours to fill a day. Three hundred and sixty-five days in a year. I knew this. I told myself I had this under control.

Stella was dead, and that was it.

Christmas would come and go without her, like it always did.

She would never hold my hand again, and I would never hold hers. Not that I ever did, actually. Her hands had been small and her fingers slender, and they'd always been cold.

Now I was cold, too.

I miss her, is what I want to say. I miss you.

She could have been here with me now, sitting on the cold ground, her pants dirty and her hair wet from the snow melting in it. She could have been sitting beside me, her hand in my hand, and we could have been talking about life and death like it didn't really matter, not really, because anything that matter never really does. Not for the people that know losing it is somewhere far in the future.

We could have been talking about living and dying and dreaming and surviving like it was easy.

She should have been here.

Even though I knew her body was lying in the cold ground, crushed by a ton of rock, it felt wrong being here without her. This was, after all, Stella's grave. This was her place. She should have been here.

I had waited for her to come long enough. My eyes burned, my heart ached. I needed her here.

On that thought, I heard steps behind me. Soft, like someone walking though snow, because that was exactly what they were doing. The white powder covered everything now. It had been a year since last time, and winter had gone and come again.

Winter. Snow. White. Cold.

Cold.

As it landed on my cheek. As it caught in my lashes. As it tangled in my hair. Snow was cold, just as the body frozen in the ground, out of my reach. Stella would have told me to dress warmer.

"It is cold," said a voice from behind me. I didn't bother to turn. Whomever it was would be gone soon. Soon, it would be only me again.

A boy came into view. Small. Slender built. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was tucked underneath a dark cap. And in his arms he carried a bouquet of flowers. For Stella, I knew. It wasn't just me by Stella's grave tonight. The boy sat down beside me, beside the standing stone bearing the name of someone we both loved still.

Me turned to we, and the game begun. Like it always did.

He would talk. I would answer. Or maybe not. Either way they never seemed to notice me.

"I came, as I told you I would," the boy whispered. He didn't look at me. He didn't acknowledge my presence at all. He was talking with Stella.

"That is nice, keeping promises," I smiled at him. Smiled through my tears. "I never seem to be able to keep them." Not the ones I had given Stella, at least.

He still didn't look at me. He didn't smile back. He hadn't seen me smiling at all, and now that smile was fading, like it always did a sentence into any conversation. Because that was just it – they never answered me. Even when I asked questions. Even when I cried. Even when I screamed so loud, I thought my lungs would burst and tears prickled my eyes and I could barely breathe. Even when I touched them.