December 18, 1862
I visited William's grave today. I can't believe it has already been a year since we first met. I wish we could have spent more time together. I stood in front of his grave and placed roses in front of it. He liked roses. He told me the reason once, he liked them because even such beautiful things could be dangerous, he was referring to the thorns on it. I smiled slightly and a tear slid down my cheek. "Hey, Will..."
After the quick visit, I went back to work like usual. Sometimes I would look at his desk and imagine him there telling me a joke or story. Even without him, my life carried on, I cried a lot when he died, but after awhile I would only cry occasionally.
YOU ARE READING
The Night Phantom
Short StoryIf you are reading this, please respect my privacy and refrain from turning any more pages in my journal unless I'm dead or gave you permission. Most likely I'll be dead before I let anyone read this, so just put it back where your found it, if I am...
