C O L O R S

E P I L O G U E

Crisp leaves are scattered around the pavement, covering the grasses that are supposed to be adorning the lonely tombs of those who would never be forgotten. Every step Kris takes creates fragile sounds that distracts the hawks gawking in sight. He stops in front of a freshly covered one, under the shade of the tree where everything is so tranquil.

There on the stone, he places a snow globe---with a miniature bus inside---along with a bouquet of white roses that resembles the personality of the one lying peacefully underneath that ground.

Rose Rubiano Rizabal

A beloved daughter, a cherished sister, and a treasured friend.

July 13, 1997 - May 12, 2016

"Hey, Rose," Kris starts, setting himself seated beside, to what he presumes, where Rose is sitting. "It must be tiring, isn't it? Lying there all day?"

"Because for me it is. It's exhausting to lie to myself that you just cross the other side of the road because you have to buy something at the grocery store. I've managed to make myself believe that one of these days, you will be back with a can of pork and beans in hand and tell me everything is just a joke."

"That's what you are, right? You like surprises. And in my life, you're the biggest one."

He looks up at the sky, admiring how the clouds, thin or thick, will move as if they are defying time; as if there are so much to waste.

And he infers that maybe people are like clouds. They have different forms, different cores, and just like clouds, they like to challenge time. It's only of matter of circumstances like what Kris and Rose have, when they will choose to spend everyday like it is their last.

"Raphael and I goes to the same college under the same scholarship. We take the same course, so we wear the same uniforms. Funny isn't it? I found the brother I've lost in him, and I'm happy."

"Do you know I'm part of the college newspaper now? Yes, I thought I should write. Someone told me that it is a way to vent out when you can't express yourself orally."

And it works, I have less nightmares and I bounce my feet only on times when I'm listening to music; I really like Ed Sheeran songs. And oh, I don't bite the nails off my fingers never again." He laughs and takes a momentary pause as he averts his gaze to gradation of tombstones that will taper into a thin line before it will mix with the lane of trees.

"But I would be honest with you," he continues. "I still dream of you and the moments we had together. I know we don't have that much, and we only did the simple things, but that's all we know and somehow, that has made my everything."

"Rose, I can't promise I will be able to forget you because I won't. Maybe there comes a time when I have to carry on and will have to set your memory aside, but I promise to commit your remnants in my mind until maybe, we see each other again."

He slips a piece of paper and a tiny box from his pockets. He opens the box first and there lies a rosary necklace. It's Rose's last gift for him. Mrs. Rizabal had given it to him the day after the funeral, along with a folded paper. Until now he hasn't opened it, and maybe it is because he's been reserving it for that day.

It is a piece of paper torn from a notebook. It's a long one but the words written on hasn't filled the whole page. Just by looking at the strokes makes Kris bite his lips; just by seeing the struggle brings back the pain that she's dealt.

The ink of the pen is flying all over the paper, the words are barely comprehensible---no straight lines and are written over the lines instead on the spaces.