Conversation with the Martian

Seven for End

No hair.

No pale complexion,

No emotionless eyes.

He is not sitting on our secret bench. Not becoming a part of the bench. Not a part of the secret.

This time, for the last time, I am sitting on the bench alone. Now, I know why he decided on six days. Because he wanted me to have one day as well. One last day. The last day of the week. After today, the week will repeat. He did not want that. He hated repetitions.

Me too. So I will not repeat. Not this time. I thought I would go home until the next spring, but today is sunny as he told so I guess the spring is already here. So it is time not to go. Home.

"I do not want to bury our past, but my longing for you buries me," I say to the air.

Now, I have to talk as he is not here.

I have to draw myself as I am a part of the scenery. So I take out my notebook and the graphite pencil, I do not deserve crayons. I am drawing myself with a help of a mirror.

The monster in the mirror wears the same clothes.

I am done. For the last time. I put the notebook and the pencil on the bench. I fold the drawing and place it into my pocket.

I am sure you are waiting for me.

Goodbye and hello again.