Voice of an Angel

Despair

Yara felt as if the final wind had blown away all her thoughts. Although nothing seemed to fit right now, she put the tip of her pencil on the paper in front of her.

"Dear..."
No, she won't be able to write this name as long as the memories were that strong.
Instead of writing it out, she continued with the next line.

"I know how well I'm playing my role of the insensible stone."

She had never admitted how excited she was about the visits in her library. How the pace of her heart increased when her friend began a conversation because Yara always struggled to find the right words.

She always felt like her own life between all the books and cats was too boring.
But her friend had always shown interest, asking how she's doing.

"Therefore, I doubt you'd guess how much influence your loss has on my life. Everything lacks without you. The memories are too strong.

"If I could turn back time, I would immediately run to this balcony, hammering it down all by myself, to avoid your stupid accident at all costs. I'm more than sorry. I owe you your life, and I've not a single chance to return it."

She had to swallow hard and laid her pencil down for a moment.

Actually, she should be on the graveyard outside, in a black dress like all the others, mourning someone who couldn't hear them anyway.

But even during the long speech of the pastor, she had started to hide behind her handkerchief. He had listed facts about childhood, which befogged Yara's mind together with the frankincense. Bad enough, the only visitors of the chapel were two old pensioners who only showed up at Christmas eve, so likely he didn't even meet Yara's friend once. Thanks to Xin and his spontaneous promenades at 2 am, she had never been alone. Yara wished, she had added as well to it, but now it was too late.

Therefore she did now what she could do best.

Hiding.

It didn't even matter what exactly. Maybe her feelings. The own emotional weakness.

She had always needed books and their stories to experience her innermost being. She could only feel when she felt with a character in a novel. Preferably with a fluffy cat on her lap. Black letters on permanent, invariable paper helped her to feel not completely irrational and lost.

So she sat in a little corner in the chapel on the bench and wrote her letter.

"I know you won't be able to read this letter, but I hope you knew at least how important you were to Xin. I don't want it to sound creepier than it is, but your absence somehow changed him. Can you guess what he did after we got the call from the hospital?"

She felt terribly bad about her reaction but couldn't stop shivering when she thought about the incident.

"He laughed through the house.

"I've never seen someone looking so hurt while doing it. It was like our personalities suddenly jumped into the other person as I summoned all my courage to comfort him with a hug and he simply shook off my arm. If you know what I can do for him, please tell me. Xin loves you. And I love you too."

While her friend was alive, Yara had been too stupid to say these simple words at least once. She knew she had proofed herself a coward. She hadn't even managed to show her own feelings. At least she could write them down.

"But do you know who's here for us?"

As Yara glanced through one of the stained glass windows, she noticed the man standing in the middle of the mourners and she suddenly didn't felt that lost anymore.

A voice found it's way quietly to her ears. The world lightened the world a little bit. Made the world spin again.

We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill

"But do you know who's here for us?

"Your favourite musician.

"He makes sure nobody forgets you."

Yara turned the paper sheet with a tiny smile on her lips and placed the tip of her pencil on the other side.

"I'm so happy to know you would have wanted it that way. Ed Sheeran felt incredibly guilty, but we explained what a cheerful, positive person you've always been and that we all should go on with our lives.

"This doesn't mean we're ever going to forget you. No, you'll always live in each one of us.

"In me.
In Xin.
In the music that you loved so much."

"We'll make you proud and live a successful life.

"Mr. Sheeran is now my sponsor and will help me to renovate the library. And I'll take Xin daily to the cinema to watch a Rosamunde Pilcher film. So when he cries it will at least be because of the happy ending."

The writing had helped Yara more than she had ever expected.

It almost seemed like her friend would put a soothing hand on her shoulder as she folded the letter and hid it in her pocket.

So you can keep me inside the pocket of your ripped jeans

If she would go outside right now she would maybe hear the last few songs that Ed Sheeran played next to the grave.
Yara stood up, knowing she had found at least as much peace as the dead.