Michael would never catch his bus at that stop again. He would drive farther to get it. At first he tried but as soon as he leant on the pole he would immediately look up to the window to try and catch a glimpse of the person he never noticed watched him for years, but he knew wasn’t there. There was nothing there but the feeble light of the fire that always burnt. He never dared to enter the bookshop ever again and stopped going to the chatroom where he had enjoyed long conversations. He visited he r grave at times, though he never came too close. He would stand in contemplation of the flowers planted on the ground, they seemed to bare a green that no grass around it could match. The colors were bright and vivacious. He could see amidst of all of them the violet he had given her as a weak apology. He had planted it himself. It grew strong in purple sunset color. Life seemed never able to stop, but it did when he visited her grave. Memories would flood his mind, but only the memories of his present life, all the others were gone with that cold wind that carried her spirit. He still couldn’t believe she had died in her sleep after they had argued about his ex-girlfriend. He could swear at time he could feel her presence right beside him, but when he turned there was nothing there.
His pain was great and never fully understood by himself. Little by little he returned to his life and at time the pain subsided giving way to a feeble joy and at last normality. The visits to her grave were scarce and he could no longer feel her presence. Even his memories became cloudy after a while. He found Isabel again and rekindled his love for her. They would be together for as long as their life would last. Happy.
As for Anna, she was left with a legacy. The shop and the apartment were hers and for the longest time all she could do was cry for a lost friend. She kept the fire burning always. It was where she could feel her presence. She took care of everything with strength she didn’t know she had. At night she would lie in bed awake, staring at the place where her friend’s body had laid. Her sadness never really subsided, she just got used to carrying it.
One night she lied down in front of the fireplace playing with her statue of Toth. She lit a candle in memory of her friend. She opened her computer and wrote this before the wick was out.
