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"Sweet little baby in a world full of pain"
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THE SPRING season approached quicker than expected, exchanging a somber and austere winter for a blissful spring. A myriad of white daisies littered the ground along with the aromatic scent of grass. My mother always described spring as a kiss of summer. It always gave me a sense of nostalgia- the way that the clouds settled in pristine wisps and the trees blossomed with crimson blush.
Two weeks had passed since Johnnys death, I'm still unable to process the desolation. Ponyboy is better now, we're both going to school. My dad- he's alright. He hasn't been drinking as much and instead exchanged it for prolonged work hours.
The gang wasn't doing too well, expected, despite the rarity of even mentioning Johnny. It's like a game of 'who's gonna bring it up first', and it was a game nobody wanted to start off. Dallas didn't have that impulsive recklessness in his actions nor did he have the same fiery and violent veneer. His attitude turned melancholic, along with his face now sunken and haunted. As if his world wasn't already cold it had gotten colder.
The idea of death wasn't new to me however it's a different experience this time. With my mother it was expected whereas with Johnny it was like a bolt of lighting. Death came to Johnny like a shot from behind, one moment he was a boy afraid of his shadow, the next he was a boy afraid of his own death. It didn't care who it took, it didn't pretend to either, death takes what it can, it takes people far too young, far too pure.
It left a void, seldom mentioned of yet everyone knew it was there. The gang now forever held a tenebrous abyss of what was once Johnny.
Walking alone on this side of town probably isn't the smartest idea however I couldn't care less about a Soc driving up to me in their opulent vehicle paid by daddy's money.
I tugged at the sleeves of my jacket to create makeshift gloves. The sun deceived me as I thought it would've been warmer but the breeze said otherwise.
As I turned the corner I saw Ponyboy on the front porch of his house smoking. He looked deep in thought, he didn't even notice me approach him. I stepped up the steps and sat on the green chair next to him.
"Oh, hey," He mumbled, tapping the butt off of his cigarette. My lips curled as I greeted him with a small smile.
"How're you holdin' up?" I asked.
It seemed as though no other conversation starters came to my mind. Lately if you're visiting someone in the gang you ask them if they're okay since it's really the only thing on anyone's mind when you see someone associated with Johnny.
