Blue Rain | Short Story Ver. | ✔️

Part Four | End.

After her episode, we tried to go back to normal. We would walk with our fingers entwined, and breathless whispers sat on the end of our tongues, but she was never fully there. Everyday we would sit at that coffee shop, and when the sunset painted itself on her face, she ignored it. The smiles she gave me returned quickly to the ones she gave everyone else, lighthearted, and no meaning behind it. And her eyes, they hurt me. At one point I couldn't even look at her without wanting to sob, to beg for her to really come back this time, but I didn't. I just ignored her blurred gaze. She eventually stopped dying her hair, and the ocean blue that I was so accustomed to had faded to a dull brown, as did she. I still found her beautiful. The only thing that stayed consistent with her was her sketches, and the way her hand found its way across the paper told that her hands still remembered. She had several more episodes after the first, and each time I would run, and she would apologize. If anything, she taught me an important lesson, and that was that you will never be able to fix anyone, and that it is never your fault.

In the last two months, she flickered and faded away, faster and faster each day. Her movements became shaky, and her attention never lasted for more than two seconds. There were still moments where she was herself again, but never fully, never lasting.

And then I was walking home alone, for the thousandth time, and I got one final call from her. I answered it cheerfully, elated that she was using her phone again. I was sobbing as my mind registered the last words she would ever say to me.

"Goodbye, Amelia."

The End.