“I miss you.”
I know.
“I still don’t understand why you left with him.”
I know that, too.
“Were you cheating on me?”
No.
“Were you going to?”
Maybe. I don’t know. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have, but we’ll never know now, will we? And that’s probably a good thing.
“I never even saw you drink before.”
I know. It wasn’t the first time, but it wasn’t a regular occurrence either. And I was angry that you blew me off to go out with your friends, so I went out with mine and I was angry that I thought you were pulling away and I was… I was angry about a lot of things. Most, if not all, of them were my fault.
“You know I would have come gotten you if you called me, right?”
Yeah, of course I do, but I didn’t want to see you. You were pretty much the last person I wanted to see.
“If you didn’t want to see me, you should have gotten a cab.”
I know. Getting into a car with someone who’d been drinking was the stupidest thing I ever did.
“I’m sorry I haven’t come and seen you before.”
It’s okay. I don’t hang around here a lot either. If you haven’t noticed, there’s not a whole lot going on.
“It’s not that I don’t miss you. I miss you more than you know. But…”
Babe, I know. I really do. It makes you sad. Trust me, I don’t want you to be sad.
“I still love you.”
Me too.
Kneeling down, he sets the flowers gently on my grave. Tulips, my favourites, and orange, the colour I wore on the day I died. The last time he saw me. I hop off the headstone and bend down to kiss his cheek, even though neither of us can feel it anymore.
“Goodbye.”
Goodbye.
about the author:
Laina can be found at her book review blog, Twitter, and Facebook. She has a short story, Zombie Girl, published in the Zombie Survival Crew anthology Undead Is Not an Option.
