Night Tales

funeral

He had a new neighbour. She just moved two weeks ago, but only today he saw her for the first time. It was at his father's funeral, an old man passing on his sleep and leaving him with large fortunes and empty heart.

Their eyes met and there were no tears on his face, still something pained her against her will. 

I'm so sorry, she told him. It was a warm spring day where flowers would bloom. But in front of her there was a man slowly withering with uncertainty and lonely road ahead. Thank you, his voice was gentle.

I hope you're fine.

Grief is a lot of things at once. It was sad, it was the aching lump in the throat, a bitter fight against the tears, and a futile rejection to defy fate and time.

That day, he was all that and everything else. His grief was an agony left unsaid, finding its way by ripping the time and space around him.

My father loved flowers, he suddenly chuckled. But he won't see them blooming again. A teardrop escaped his eyes and suddenly she, too, wanted to cry.

Do you like them too?

Maybe I will try.

They walked home side-by-side. He looked at her from his window as soon as he was home. She turned around just to make sure he was alright.

In that moment, for once they shared a wry smile that would learn not to fade so soon.